


One More Night

by AlaskaMarina



Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2018-02-19
Packaged: 2018-02-28 21:50:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2748356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlaskaMarina/pseuds/AlaskaMarina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt Hummel is invisible. And crushing hard on Blaine Anderson; the popular, straight jock currently dating one Miss Rachel Berry. Kurt thinks his dream might come true when the two boys discover Blaine may not be as straight as they thought. But can their relationship survive the secrets, betrayal, and rampant homophobia that threaten to derail them at every turn? Klaine AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is based of this amazing [fan-made trailer](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J-xlhlOJuro&feature=player_embedded) on YouTube by Alison447 and you should definitely check it out because it is amazing. So amazing I just had to write a fic about it. And so did many other people, as it turns out.
> 
> Personally, I know of a dozen other fics with this title based off of that trailer. What can I say? It's a great premise and I take no credit for the basic idea of this story. I also recommend you go and check out those other fics if you like the video, especially the one by "beautifulwhatsyourhurry" on Scarves&Coffee (Warning: her version has since been abandoned-- it's still really good though).
> 
> Anyway, this is my take on it. I am not competing with the other stories and I planned out most of my version before I read any of the others, so any similarities (that aren't in the video, obviously) are purely coincidental and/or subconscious. I just really love this idea and was really excited to write about it so I did.
> 
> Sorry for the long note (the others won't be this long) and please enjoy my interpretation of "One More Night." :)

_Rachel Berry_ . Berry was right. She was the sweetest thing anyone had ever seen. She was so tiny and adorable and beautiful. She had the cutest laugh and her nose would scrunch up when she used it. Her hair was so dark and shiny and perfect and she always dressed like she had a team of designers and make-up artists working on her around the clock. And, in addition to all that aesthetic appeal, she was full of confidence, and determination, and, well,  _volume_ . And, dear god, she could sing. To hear her perform a ballad or lead a group number was to be reborn into the world of music. Your ears and soul would never be the same again.

That was the general consensus around the school anyway. She was  _the_ hottest thing at McKinley high. Well, other than the obvious exception.

The truth was that the only person more desirable than Rachel Berry, in the whole world it seemed, but most definitely in the school, was her dream-boat boyfriend. But more on him later.

The point was, she  _had_  a boyfriend. A superhot, super-popular boyfriend. Who could keep up with her in every respect. Which really really sucked for guys like Finn.

Finn Hudson stared longingly as the object of his affection strode past him in the crowded hallway. She looked stunning, as always. Today she was wearing even less than usual though: A white tube-top, a tight, black mini-skirt and matching jacket, and the sexiest heels Finn had ever seen. Her shirt was tied off above her navel exposing the smooth, caramel-colored skin beneath. Her make-up was perfect, lips redder than blood, skin flawless, and eyes smokey as hell. On top of that, her dark, gorgeous locks were tangled into two braided pigtails that were doing scary things to Finn's brain.

As she glided past him, without ever meeting his gaze or even glancing in his direction, a delicious wave of lavender shampoo and pomegranate body spray washed over him, making him dizzy.

Finn's breath caught as he stared after her. Good god she was amazing. Finn really didn't understand why she thought she needed all that make-up though. She was plenty beautiful without all that help. He'd always had a thing for natural-looking girls and Rachel Berry rarely "dressed down" but there was just something about her...

Finn supposed her boyfriend liked his girl all "done-up" like that. Like some sort of painted doll or trophy wife. As if he needed another reason to hate Anderson's guts.

 _Speak of the devil_. Blaine Anderson turned around the corner at that moment, his face lighting up with a dazzling smile when he saw his lady walking toward him, the two of them attracting every eye in the hall. Finn's face crumpled in pain and he forced himself to look away as their lips collided with one another, Blaine's hands gripping Rachel's perfect waist and her brightly polished finger tips lightly stroking the stubble on his tan, perfectly-formed jaw. They just looked so fucking _adorable_ together. It made Finn sick.

* * *

Mercedes Jones leaned against the wall of lockers and stared, unashamedly, at the disgusting display going on down the hall. Why not? Everyone else was looking. And those two knew they were looking. They  _wanted_  to be seen.

The AnderBerry kisses were not only very public and very intense but they were also very  _long_. Like they wanted make sure everyone got a chance to see the two hottest, most popular people in school passionately sucking face in front in front of them. It was kind of gross, actuallly. But there was a logic behind it. They were both hot and desirable and either could have anyone they wanted and everyone knew that. Including each other. They were staking out their territory. This hot pice of ass is  _mine_. Hands off!

That's how Mercedes saw it anyway. What other reason could they possibly have for doing  _that_ so often and for so long? Was kissing really that pleasurable? She felt a familiar pang of regret as she remembered, once again, that she had no idea.

"Have you ever kissed anyone?" She mused longingly.

Her best friend, Kurt Hummel, peaked his head out from his locker beside her and followed her gaze. His nose wrinkled in distaste when he saw where she was staring.

"Oh honey," he said, " _that_  is not something to aspire to. If and when you do kiss someone, I hope it will be something special and intimate. Not some sort of side show or power play." His voice was dripping with disgust. Mercedes thought maybe she heard something else in there too, but she couldn't place it.

Blaine and Rachel finally detached their faces and started off down the hall together, hand in hand. The crowd before them parted like the freaking Red Sea. Those two were like gods here and everyone knew it.

Mercedes looked over at her friend. "I know," she said, "that's not kissing. That's pure exhibitionism. But really, though.  _Have_  you ever kissed anyone?"

Kurt tore his eyes away from the power couple and looked at her, his eyes softening.

"No," he said quietly, "I haven't." For a moment his eyes darted back to Blaine and Rachel, an inexplicable emotion flickering across his face. Was that... _yearning_? "But I want to," he said quietly, before turning quickly back to his locker, cheeks blushing red.

Mercedes eyes widened as something clicked into place. "Oh. My. God."

Kurt buried his face in locker even though he was already holding all the books he needed. Mercedes turned to face him properly.

"You totally want it with  _Anderson_!" _  
_

"I do not."

He wasn't convincing anybody.

"Yes, you do! 'Fess up white boy. You want it  _bad_ _."_ She poked him in the chest with her finger.

 _"_ And you don't?" Kurt turned on her, his voice even higher than normal, "Everyone's in love with those two."

"Of course he's gorgeous, " Mercedes replied, "he's sex on a stick and he sings like a dream but that doesn't mean I  _want_ him want him."

Kurt didn't answer. He slammed his locker shut.

"There's nothing wrong with having a crush, Kurt."

Mercedes didn't understand why Kurt looked so upset about this. Kurt leaned his forehead against the closed locker door, eyes shut.

"I know that, 'Cedes, I just...," he sighed, "I  _really_ like him. And..." He opened his eyes and looked at her helplessly, "And I know I shouldn't and I hate myself for it. He's so... and he's  _straight_... and  _taken_...and he's just..." He floundered for words.

Mercedes put a comforting hand on his arm. "It's okay, hun. We don't have to talk about it."

Kurt nodded gratefully.

Mercedes smiled sadly at her best friend. She knew what it was like to be in love with someone unattainable. She wouldn't wish that pain on anyone.

* * *

Later that day, Kurt Hummel was sitting in glee club watching the man he man he dreamed about at night sing and dance with the girl he dreamed about at night. Of course the two dreams were very different. He often dreamed of doing violent and comical things to Rachel, while his dreams of Blaine were... well they were still violent sometimes but in a good way. In a really, really  _great_  way that made him blush to even remember in public.

The truth was Kurt knew he was way too infatuated with Blaine for it to be considered healthy. And he freaking  _hated_  himself for it. Blaine Anderson was a straight, stuck-up, self-absorbed, jock and Kurt  _knew_ that. He knew Blaine would never look at him in a million years unless it was over the counter at the Lima Bean. He knew Blaine was just like all the rest. He didn't  _want_  to like him. And yet...

Blaine twirled Rachel around in particularly sexy move that caused Kurt's heat to skip a beat. He couldn't help wishing it was  _him_  up there. Holding Blaine's hand, the man's strong voice mixing with his own, Blaine's hand on his hip...

Kurt shook the images from his head.  _No_.  _  
_

While Blaine himself had never actually shoved Kurt into a locker, or slushied him, or tossed him a dumpster, he was friends with plenty of people who had and never once had he done anything to stop it. Of course, neither had any of his other "friends" in glee.

Kurt sometimes felt totally alone in this school. Even though people called themselves his friends, no one really got what was going on with him. He couldn't really _talk_ to anyone about anything real. He had Mercedes, of course, but there was only so much she could do for him or him for her. More than anything, he wanted someone who could understand him. Being the only out kid in McKinely, actually in all of Lima for that matter, was rough. And draining. And  _lonely_. But what did the world want from him? He was a teenage boy. He had urges and crushes and yet he was forbidden to act on or even show them. It was so unfair sometimes Kurt just wanted to scream.

Like now, when the boy of his dreams was clutching that beautiful girl to his chest and grinning adorably like he was the happiest man in the world. Why couldn't Kurt have someone to hold him like that? Why couldn't he kiss his boyfriend in the hallway or hold his hand? Why couldn't he be happy too?

He knew why it couldn't happen with Blaine. That was painfully obvious. But he didn't know the answers to those other questions. Oddly enough though, it was the answer, and not the questions, that caused his aching heart to throb the most.

* * *

The prince and princess finished their duet and, after an obnoxious little bow, returned to their usual seats in the front row near the band. Rachel scooted her chair so close to Blaine's she was practically sitting on top of him, though he didn't seem to mind.

Near the end of practice, Mr. Shuester assigned them their homework for the week. This week was all about working together since Mr. Schue had been picking up on the not-so-subtle aura of "me-talk" that had been circling around the glee club lately. Most of it, Kurt thought, had been emanating from the left side of the room, but he wasn't entirely innocent either. In a room so full of star-power and super-divas, he practically had to scream to get noticed. And Kurt Hummel was not one to let anyone walk over him, least of all Rachel Snog-a-thon Berry. So, had he been fighting for solos? Of course he had. He wasn't going to apologize for that.

Mr. Schue, however, seemed to be taking issue with the fact that practically everyone in glee club had taken on a similar attitude. They were supposed to be a team. And if they were going to have any chance against the Warblers at Sectionals they needed to start acting like one.

"So," He concluded, "This week's assignment is..." he turned around and quickly scribbled the next word on the white board, "...duets."

There was a collective groan from the rest of the members as Rachel immediately perked up.

"Perfect," said Santana sourly, "Now we get to listen to even  _more_  nausea-inducing warbling from the hobbit twins. Seriously, you two are better than ipecac. I haven't been able to keep my lunch down in weeks."

"Enough, Santana," said Schue, quickly cutting in as Rachel opened her mouth to respond. He turned to the class, "Hopefully, we'll be mixing it up a little this time," he glanced briefly in the direction of Blaine and Rachel before returning his attention to the group, "You will not be choosing you own duet partners for this assignment."

Collective gasps and groaning sprung up around the room. Mr. Schue raised a hand to calm their protests.

"Instead," he continued, "partners will be chosen by drawing names out of a hat. This hat." He picked up an overturned black fedora from the top of the piano and held it out. "Now, when I call your name, come up and pick a slip out of the hat. The name you draw will be your duet partner. And I don't want to hear any whining. This is a team-building exercise, guys."

There were scattered grumbles of assent as the glee members shifted uncomfortably in their seats. There was no way this could end well. The glee club had done a pretty amazing job so far of pulling together students from all levels of the caste system that was McKinley High School and getting them to work together but even glee had its limits. There were still lingering feelings of trepidation and separation even in their little band of misfit toys. Despite a communal love for song and dance and attention there still existed a distinct line between the jocks, Cheerios, & populars and the invisibles at the bottom of the social heap. Invisibles whose only breath of fresh, non-filtered air actually came from their participation in a club that did in fact lay claim to membership by those same populars.

Nobody was particularly eager to cross that line and upset the tenuous status quo that they'd managed to establish in the choir room. Peaceful co-existence was about all they were prepared to guarantee at the moment. But it looked like Mr. Schue was about to step up and rock the boat once again. The growing apprehension in the little room was almost palpable.

"Alright, come on up," said Schue a little too cheerily for Kurt's liking. One by one the club members reluctantly stepped up and stuck their hand into the hat of doom. The local bad-ass, Puck, was first, looking terrified of reaching into the fedora as though it might bite his hand off. He pulled out the piece of paper and his nose wrinkled in distaste.

"Mercedes," he grumbled. Mercedes shot him an equally disgusted look.

Artie rolled up next and pulled his slip, "Quinn," he read happily surprised. Quinn, the beautiful head-cheerleader, raised her eyebrows in amusement. Artie's girlfriend, Brittany cocked her head and frowned possessively.

Santana Lopez was next. She looked at her name and smiled wickedly, "Trouty-mouth." Her football player boyfriend, Sam smiled and rolled his eyes good-naturedly.

Brittany scurried up to the hat next. Santana stayed put and helped Brittany read the name she pulled. She whispered in her best friend's ear and Brittany said aloud, "Rory." The Irish exchange student smiled brilliantly.

Kurt was called up next. He sighed. The only girls left unpaired were Tina and Rachel. While Tina was a lovely girl, her voice was comparatively weak and he hated the idea of being held back in that way. Yet he shuddered even more at the thought of picking Rachel. While her voice was definitely the strongest in the group and she would have no problem keeping up with him- in fact, now that Kurt actually thought about, their voices would probably sound amazing together- he dreaded the idea of spending so much time with the girl. And not just because she was loquacious and overbearing. But because he'd have to sing with her, rehearse with her, and talk to her knowing that, when they were done,  _she_  would be the one who got to home to Blaine. Who got to kiss him and hug him and tell him about her day. The thought was enough to make him feel physically ill.

He slowly approached the front of the room, resigned to misery either way. He reached in and pulled out a slip. He unfolded the paper and read Mr. Schue's tidy scrawl.

He froze.

_No way._

He blinked rapidly and shook his head as if that would somehow make what he was seeing more real.

He looked again.

But the writing remained unchanged.

The name was still there.

Still just sitting there. Like it was the most normal thing in the world. Like it was perfectly happy to resting in Kurt Hummel's shaking hands right now.

**_Blaine Anderson._ **

Kurt couldn't breathe. He just stood there. Staring at the tiny piece of paper in front of him, terrified that if he looked away it might disappear.

"Kurt?" Mr. Schue's voice cut through his stupor. He started and looked up. Every eye in the room was on him.

"Blaine," he whispered. Still not quite able to believe it.

"Sorry?"

Kurt cleared his throat, "Blaine," he said a little louder.

Kurt couldn't bring himself to meet Blaine's eyes but whatever his reaction was quickly became immaterial as Rachel's outrage immediately occupied the silence.

"This is ridiculous, Mr. Schue! Blaine and I have proven ourselves to be the most superior match-up the New Directions has to offer. There is no need for either of us to sing with anyone else. This is preposterous. Blaine and I need to practice our performance for Sectionals, we can't waste time on songs we can't possibly use..." Pretty much everyone else in the room rolled their eyes as Rachel ranted on and on, her voice becoming increasingly shrill.

It took a while for Mr. Schue and Blaine to calm Rachel down, reminding her of the rules of this assignment and that it was just a song and dear god Rachel will you calm down, you're going to loose your voice if you keep screaming like that and then we'll have no chance at Sectionals, blah blah blah.

But Kurt wasn't listening. Somehow he'd found his way back to his seat in the back of the room next to Mercedes and he was still staring dumbly at the slip of paper in his hand.

**_Blaine Anderson._ **

Could this really be happening? Was this some sort of cruel joke? Was he dreaming? There was just no way this could be real. Things like this didn't happen to Kurt Hummel. They just didn't.

Even after Schue and Blaine had managed to subdue Rachel's outburst, the remaining time was a blur to Kurt. He was pretty sure Tina and Mike were paired because there was some confusion when Tina read out "Other Asian," and he was vaguely aware of Rachel being unhappily paired with Finn, but he wasn't really paying attention. Kurt's mind was reeling.

_Blaine._

_I'm singing a duet with_  Blaine _._

 _Blaine is singing a duet with_ me _._

_Blaine and I are going to be in the same room. At the same time._

_Possibly_ alone _._

The very thought made him blush.

He was somewhat aware of Mercedes smirking at him and nudging him playfully with her elbow but he was too distracted to care.

Slowly, a small smile began to creep it's way onto Kurt's face as the reality of the situation settled in his mind. Blaine was going to know he existed. He was going to hear him sing and actually  _listen_. He was going to spend a part of his day thinking about  _Kurt_  instead of Rachel. And for a few precious moments, Kurt was going to get his wish. He was going to up there, in the front of the room, singing a duet with  _Blaine_.

But suddenly another thought intruded on his fantasy and nearly smashed all of those good feelings to pieces.  _This doesn't change anything,_  he scolded himself harshly,  _He's still straight and he's still with Rachel_.  _You're still a nobody to him_.

For the fist time since picking his name, Kurt dared a glance in Blaine's direction. He was sitting there, still cute as ever, with his arm draped comfortably over Rachel's shoulders. Looking not at all upset by the recent turn of events.

Kurt shifted in his seat. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. This wasn't going to be his fairy-tale ending. It was true, Blaine was still very straight and very taken but maybe that was okay. Maybe, at the very least, by the end of this Blaine wouldn't think he was such a loser anymore. Maybe he'd see him for the talented, caring, ambitious young man that he was. Maybe they could even be friends.

 _Woa_ , he cut himself off. Careful not to get too carried away.

Still, he still felt a warm feeling in the pit of his stomach when he glanced from the name in his hand to the man and then back again.

 _I'm singing a duet with_  Blaine _._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Review!
> 
> This story is also posted on Fanfiction.net (under AlaskaMarina) and on my tumblr (Colfettegurl.tumblr.com)


	2. Chapter 2

Finn closed his locker door and nearly jumped out of his skin. Rachel seemed to have popped up out of nowhere. It took Finn several moments to re-assemble his thoughts back into a semi-recogocnizable formation and then another few for him to remember how to breathe. By the time he'd managed to zone-in to what Rachel was saying it was clear he'd already missed a large chunk of conversation.

"...have got to be  _perfect_. Don't let me down, Finn Hudson. Are you even listening to me?" Suddenly, despite her short stature, Rachel looked very intimidating.

"What?" Finn sputtered, "Oh, yeah. Perfect. Got it." He hoped that was the right thing to say. He was still having a pretty hard time wrapping his head around the fact that Rachel Berry was actually speaking to him.  _  
_

After they'd been assigned as duet partners yesterday, while Finn had been basically having a full-on panic attack, Rachel hadn't so much as glanced at him except in outrage before jumping back into Blaine's lap. He hadn't seen heads nor tails of her since until just now when she'd decided to pounce on him like some sort of tiny jaguar from hell. God, she had a pretty mouth though. She had a pretty everything.

"...just because I'm not paired with my preferred, and obviously superior, choice is no excuse for a performance that is anything less than spectacular."

 _She's talking you idiot. Stop staring at her lips and listen,_ Finn's upstairs' brain reprimanded him. Although, Rachel's little rant didn't seem all that dependent on whether Finn was actually listening or not.

"...You should view this as an opportunity, Finn. You're getting a chance to learn from the best. Surely, by being so close to my talent some of it is sure to rub off on you. And that can only be good for the group. Blaine and I can't carry you guys forever. It's exhausting and, frankly, the rest of you need to start pulling your weight..."

Finn knew he should probably be insulted but he also felt like Rachel had gotten a bit off-track.

"So," he cut in, "you want to pick a time to practice our duet or what?"

"Yes," Rachel said quickly, "today, three o'clock. The auditorium. I've already got the perfect song picked out. Don't be late."

And then, without waiting for an answer, she was gone. With a flourish and a flip of her deliciously-smelling hair, she had disappeared into the mob of students and out of Finn's view. Off for another snog-fest with her 'obviously superior choice', no doubt.

* * *

" _You think this is hard? I'm living with hepatitis A._ That's _hard!_ " Sue's shriek echoed through the bullhorn and assaulted Santana's ears along with the rest of the Cheerios'.

The usual chorus of disappointed groans reverberated from the group against the high gymnasium walls. Santana stood panting, exhausted, her olive skin flushed and sweaty with her hand on her hip. Sue actually had a point. They were kind of sucking lately. Santana didn't know what was up everyone else's asses but she did know she had been a little preoccupied lately. True, her parents had been fighting a lot and her grades weren't so great. But really it was just a matter of being distracted. Really distracted during practice. By a certain Cheerio.

"You babies make me want to swallow a live cobra. Again. Hit the showers."

Santana let out a relieved sigh as she headed toward the locker rooms with the rest of the girls. As usual, Brittany popped up beside her, her pale, freckled cheeks flushed with pink, her silky blond hair disheveled, and her breathing heavy. And still that ever-present, delighted-with-the-world smile lit up her face. She was positively glowing.

"My cat finally quit smoking," she said, and then paused, those adorable frown lines creasing her brow, "but I also think he's started reading my diary."

Santana couldn't help but chuckle a little. Brittany could always make her smile, no matter what. "You're probably right." She linked her pinkie with Britt's and the pair floated happily out of the gym together.

After practice, Santana met up with Sam back at her place. They worked on their duet for glee and made out a little bit, but Santana's heart wasn't in it. It hadn't been for a while, honestly. And it wasn't just Sam either. Santana had hooked-up with basically every guy in the school by this point. Well, all the popular guys anyway. And she had yet to wake up the next morning feeling anything but boredom and passive indifference.

Santana wasn't sure why this was suddenly a problem now. It had never bothered her before. Regardless, she kicked Sam out early and called up Britt instead. A little Lady Time with her BFF always helped her get a seductive spring back in her step.

* * *

Kurt was on cloud 9. Ever since yesterday it seemed he hadn't been able to stop smiling. It didn't matter that he still got tossed in the dumpster this morning or that his step-brother, Finn had accidentally spilled hot-sauce all over one of his favorite sweaters last night. The stuff that normally drove him crazy was just sliding off him like rain on one of his fabulous new coats. Because the only thing on his mind today was Blaine. And singing with Blaine. And Blaine.

Of course, part of him was terrified of just how the man himself would respond to the whole thing. Blaine hadn't said anything yesterday when they were assigned as partners, but maybe he was just being polite. Maybe he just didn't want to humiliate Kurt in front of everyone, because he was just that dapper, but secretly he was just as uncomfortable with the idea of singing with Kurt as any of the other straight douchebags would be.

On the other hand, though, he  _hadn't_  said anything. In fact, he'd even stepped in to calm Rachel's protests. If he really didn't want to sing with Kurt he could have just let her ream Mr. Schue out until he changed his mind, right? Right?

Kurt smiled dreamily as he opened up his locker. He had spent most of yesterday running through the lists of the dozens of songs he had daydreamed about singing with his crush for years now, trying to find the perfect one. And also weeding out a few of the more embarrassing love ballads, just in case Blaine caught a glimpse of the list. That being said, he thought "Somebody That I Used to Know," might be a good one. Or maybe "Baby, It's Cold Outside." He knew it was out of season, but he just  _knew_  they would be amazing with that song. It was practically like it was written with their exact voices in mind. Kurt had played it over and over again in his head and it sent happy tingles through his whole body every time.

And the thought of some of those lyrics. Of Blaine saying those things.  _To him_. " _Beautiful, what's your hurry?... Your eyes are like starlight now...Gosh, your lips look delicious..."_ The very thought made it a little harder to breathe.

Kurt was so caught up in his silly daydreams that he didn't see letterman's jacket barreling down the hall until it was too late. Kurt was shoved roughly from behind, slamming painfully, face-first into the neighboring locker. The impact knocked his breath from him as he lost his balance and tumbled unceremoniously to the ground. He glared viciously after Karofsky as the offending jock spared him a passing sneer before continuing down hallway.

Kurt sat there, fuming, his good mood finally quashed as his shoulder throbbed angrily. He didn't know why he was torturing himself like this, reminding himself once again that no one gave a damn about him, but he just couldn't find the energy or the will to get up just then. No one said anything or offered to help him up. No one ever did. Kurt Hummel was literally invisible. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see the crowds of people walking by him not caring.

"Kurt?"

Kurt's eyes snapped open in surprise. He knew that voice. He tilted his head up to see none other than Blaine Anderson standing over him with an adorable look of concern on his impossibly handsome face. Kurt's mouth fell open in shock.

"Are you okay?" Blaine frowned, reaching a hand out to help him up.

The question jerked Kurt back into reality and he quickly, gracelessly scrambled to his feet, pressing back into the lockers and ignoring Blaine's hand. "Yeah, yeah, yeah," he stammered, face flushing bright red, "I'm great. I'm fine. I'm...I'm fine. I was just...um..." He gaze was flying around wildly as he rambled, looking anywhere but at Blaine's gorgeous face. God, why did he have look so  _cute_?

Kurt scrambled desperately for some explanation but he couldn't come up with a suitable reason for being on the floor. "I'm fine," he finished lamely.

Blaine raised a skeptical eyebrow, "Are you sure? You didn't look fine."

Kurt stared at him. Since when did he care? He opened his mouth to say something along those lines, but thought better of it at the last second, and just nodded. Nothing coherent was going to come out anyway.

Blaine still looked worried but he didn't press the issue. "Okay," he said reluctantly, "Well, I wanted to talk to you about our glee assignment."

 _Oh no_ , Kurt thought, bracing himself,  _Here it comes. He doesn't want to sing with me. He's going to ask to be paired with somebody else. Anybody else but the gay loser with the high voice. Be strong, Kurt._

"I was thinking we could get together after school today and work on it. I already have a few song ideas in mind and I'm sure you do too."

Kurt blinked. What?

Once the implications of Blaine's words had settled in his brain, releasing all sort of happy endorphins that were chanting " _he wants to sing with me"_  over and over inside his head, Kurt was able to spare a few brain cells to focus on the actual content. A small blush rose in his cheeks. How did Blaine know that he'd already picked out the perfect songs for them?

"Kurt?"

Kurt realized he'd been staring at Blaine mutely for the better part of the last minute, probably looking like a total dunce. "Uhm," he stammered eloquently, shaking his head and forcing himself to focus, "Yeah. Yeah, that'd be... that'd be great." Kurt looked down at his shoes. Blaine's fantastic hazel eyes boring into his were turning his mind into rice pudding. Albeit delicious rice pudding. The best damn pudding there ever was.

"Where did you want to meet?"

"The choir room? Rachel's already booked the auditorium for her and Finn."

Kurt's heart sank at the mention of Rachel. He dared a glance upward and took notice of the thinning traffic in the hallway. Class was about to start and the few people who remained were shooting confused looks in their direction, ranging from curiosity to disgust.

"Right," Kurt said, dropping his eyes back to his feet and adjusting his shoulder bag self-conciously, "I'll, um, I'll see you there, then."

He waited, because Blaine was sort of in his way, but the other boy didn't move.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

There it was again. The concern. It was totally bizarre and totally throwing Kurt off.

Did he actually care? The idea seemed ludicrous but why else would Blaine keep asking? They had already fulfilled whatever social obligations the situation might have required. Blaine had asked, and Kurt had dutifully responded that he was fine. Twice. That should be that

He knew it would be a mistake, but he looked into Blaine's round amber eyes anyway, searching, confusion certainly coloring Kurt's features. But Kurt saw only beauty and genuine concern there and... something else he couldn't quite place. Oddly enough, it was that last unknown element that finally made Kurt decide to give the truth a whirl.

"I, um," Just then the bell rang. Kurt closed his eyes with a sigh. It was probably for the best. "I'll see you later, Blaine." Kurt thrilled a little at the realization that his words were actually true. He was also proud of himself for how well that came out. So he smiled just a little bit.

And Blaine smiled back at him. And holy fucking shit Kurt was 90% sure he'd just melted into the floor.

He looked down to check.

Nope. Still good.

"See you later, Kurt."

Oh. That did it.

* * *

Blaine stepped back and allowed Kurt to brush past him, his skin tingling oddly at the sensation when their arms touched. He stood in the empty hallway and watched as the taller boy disappeared around the corner. He knew he should be getting to class but curiosity was rooting him in place. He couldn't shake the feeling that Kurt had been about to tell him something. Possibly something  _important_.

That look on Kurt's face when he'd found him had been disturbing to say the least. Sitting on the floor like that, arms limp at his sides, eyes closed. The boy had looked so... _lost_.Like he was slowly drowning in quicksand. Like he'd wanted to call for help but wouldn't. Because he knew no one would hear. It made Blaine's stomach churn just to think about. It had reminded him a little of that other time. Back in freshman year.

Blaine's phone buzzed in his pocket, interrupting his train of thought. Checking, he saw it was a text from Rachel.

TO: BLAINE

FROM: RACHEL

_~Where are you? You're late. I am NOT covering for you again, Blaine Anderson!~_

Blaine rolled his eyes as he typed a reply,

TO: RACHEL

FROM: BLAINE

_~I'm on my way. Try not to combust before I get there, babe. And I never asked you to cover for me.~_

TO: BLAINE

FROM: RACHEL

_~Well, excuse me for wanting to keep my boyfriend out of detention~_

TO: RACHEL

FROM: BLAINE

_~You just want to keep me out so YOU can have more time with me ;)~_

TO: BLAINE

FROM: RACHEL

_~Don't flatter yourself~_

TO: RACHEL

FROM: BLAINE

_~You have a better reason?~_

There was a pause.

TO: BLAINE

FROM: RACHEL

_~Just get to class :p~_

Blaine smiled victoriously and put his phone away. He cast one final glance down the hallway where Kurt had disappeared. He did't know what was going on with the kid. He also wasn't sure if it was any of his business.

He shrugged. He didn't have time to worry about it right now. He had a angry teacher to answer to and an even angrier girlfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review :)


	3. Chapter 3

Of course this would happen! On today of all days! Okay, well, to be honest it happened a lot of days. But  _really_? The universe couldn't cut him a break? Just this once?

Kurt stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror in horror More specifically at the fountain of blood gushing from his nose down to his chin. He just had to mouth off to Karofsky didn't he? He couldn't keep his damn mouth shut. Not even today.

He reached up and tentatively pressed at the swollen flesh aside his nose and winced at the bolt of pain that radiated across his face. How was he supposed to face Blaine like this? What was he supposed to do? Walk in there holding a bloodstained kleenex to his face? How very attractive and dignified. And perfect for practicing a duet. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't.

Kurt grabbed a handful of toilet paper, pressing the clump to his aching face. It was soaked through almost instantly. Kurt groaned. Just fucking  _perfect_! _  
_

Still holding the wad to his face with one hand, he fumbled for his phone and awkwardly typed out a message to Blaine telling him he couldn't make it. His stomach twisted in displeasure as he hit send. His one chance to be alone with Blaine and he had to tell him no. Could this day get any worse?

Kurt sighed. What he needed now was to go home, get cleaned up, and take a nice long bubble bath. Maybe with a nice cup of herbal tea or some warm milk.

His phone buzzed as Blaine sent a reply, asking if they could meet up tomorrow instead. Kurt bit his lip. He had work tomorrow. But he desperately wanted to have as much time with Blaine as possible. As soon as possible. Maybe he could get Zoe to cover his first shift. She did owe him from labor day weekend.

He bet on her guilty conscience and sent Blaine an "ok." He wasn't sure why he was playing the fates like this. They hadn't been very kind to him lately. Or ever.

Kurt kept his head down as he headed through the empty halls of McKinley and out to the parking lot. The school was mostly cleared out but he didn't want to risk bumping into anyone, a teacher maybe, and having to explain his bloody condition. Plus, keeping your head down was what you were supposed to do with a bloody nose. He'd had enough of them to know that. God, his sweater was going to be ruined. It was sunshine-yellow too. No hope of ever getting the rusty stains out of that.

Kurt held a fresh clump of tissue to his downturned face and moved as quickly as possible across the lot, hoping to reach his car before the bleeding got intense enough to drip past the wad and onto his clothing.

He figured he was about halfway across the lot when,

_SLAM._

He crashed headfirst into something, some _one_ , and tumbled backward, landing hard on the rough, unforgiving asphalt. He felt pain shoot up through his shoulder-blades and his ass and let out a groan.

Stars swam before Kurt's eyes. He shook his head to shoo them away. He slowly propped himself up on his elbows, wincing as he put pressure on the bruise on his right arm where Karofsky had knocked him into the wall earlier. "Sorry," he mumbled to whomever he'd hit, "Sorry, sorry, I... _oh..._ " Kurt looked up to see who it was he'd mindlessly bulldozed into and his eyed widened in horror as he found himself staring up at none other than  _Blaine mother-fucking Anderson_!

_Shit._

_Shit. Shit. Shit!_

* * *

The choir room was empty when Blaine got there. Which was weird because he was already late. Rachel had insisted on an extra-long make-out session before the two of them split up for  _'the whole afternoon.'_  Blaine rolled his eyes as he remembered her pouty expression. She was really really unhappy about this whole "singing with other people thing." To hear her talk about it, it was the equivalent of an open-relationship and completely unacceptable. She kept whining and giving him these death glares like the whole thing was his idea or something. Some sort of secret plot to vocally cheat on her.

Personally, though he'd never admit this to Rachel, Blaine was a little relieved by this assignment. He was actually looking forward to taking a break from his and Rachel's constant (although, frankly, show-stopping), lovey-dovey, power duets. Rachel was a fantastic singer and he loved spending time with her but, honestly, she could be really exhausting at times. And all of their duets had started sounding so similar to Blaine's ears, he couldn't even remember them all anymore. Blaine hoped singing with Kurt might be a nice change of pace. At least for a while.

When it became clear that Kurt was going to be late, Blaine sat down in one of the chairs and pulled out his calculus homework. He was about halfway through the first problem when his phone buzzed.

He pulled it out with a sigh, expecting yet another 'I miss you' text from Rachel, and was surprised when the caller-ID told him it was from Kurt. All the glee kids had exchanged their numbers, of course. But Blaine was fairly confident he'd never actually texted Kurt before.

TO: BLAINE

FROM: KURT

_~Can't rehearse today. Something came up. Sorry.~_

Blaine sighed. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed. He'd actually been getting excited about the idea of exploring different kinds of songs and ways of singing today. And maybe he even could have gotten Kurt to talk to him about what was bothering him earlier. True, he didn't know the kid all that well, but his behavior still worried him a little.

Blaine pursed his lips as he typed a reply. At least now he might get a few hours of alone time before Finn and Rachel finished up their rehearsal. And alone time was a precious rarity when one was dating Rachel Berry.

TO: KURT

FROM: BLAINE

_~That's cool. Tomorrow?~_

The reply came a few seconds later.

TO: BLAINE

FROM: KURT

_~Ok. See you then.~_

Blaine packed up his stuff and headed out to the parking lot. He was almost to his car, mentally running through different renditions of the Pink songs he thought might make a good duet for him and Kurt, when he suddenly collided with something painfully solid. Or rather, something solid collided with  _him_. With a flash of yellow and an "oof," Blane found himself thrown back into a nearby car.

"Sorry, sorry, sorry," a pained voice came from the ground at his feet, "I... _oh..."_ The voice petered out with a whimper.

"It's fine. I, uh..." Blaine shook himself off and looked down to see none other than Kurt Hummel, lying on his back, propped up on his elbows and staring up at him with petrified eyes. He frowned in confusion, "Kurt? Wha-" He started, then his eyes widened, "Kurt, you're bleeding."

Kurt's hand flew to his upper lip as if to hide the red liquid streaming from his nose. Blaine noticed a bloody clump of tissues laying off the side.

"What happened? Are you okay?" Blaine reached down to help Kurt to his feet. But the other boy just stared, mystified, at the out-stretched hand, like he couldn't figure out what in the world it was doing there in front of him.

Blaine's heart gave an unpleasant squeeze as he remembered how thrown Kurt had looked this morning when he'd asked him if he was alright. Like he genuinely could not believe anyone actually cared that much about his well-being.

"Come on," said Blaine quietly, "I promise I won't bite."

Kurt's gaze shot up to meet Blaine's. He hesitated for a moment longer, eyes darting between Blaine's face and his offered hand, and then, just for a second, off to the side, as if he were contemplating his chances of making a run for it. Finally, Kurt bit his lip and reached up to tentatively slip his own hand into Blaine's. Blaine gripped it tightly and pulled the taller boy to his feet.

He didn't let go right away. For some reason, probably because Kurt's eyes were still darting wildly around the parking lot, he worried that if he did, Kurt might take off. A tiny part of his brain noticed how soft Kurt's hand was. He mentally shook himself. What the hell? He let go.

"Are you alright?" Blaine repeated, "What happened?"

Kurt shrugged. He was looking away, Blaine guessed towards his car.

Blane hesitated. A drop of blood fell to the pavement at their feet.

"That looks pretty bad," he said finally.

"I've had worse." Kurt's voice was low and hurried as he anxiously shifted his weight from foot to foot.

"Do you need help?"

Kurt finally looked at him, his eyes wide as saucers, "Do I...No! No, no, I- I'm fine." Kurt started backing away.

 _I'm fine_. That was the same thing he'd said this morning. And it rang with the same false note as it did then. Blaine felt the familiar squeeze in his chest. Like something was very wrong. He'd had let it go before, but now this kid was bleeding. He was  _not_ fine. And Blaine wasn't going to give up so easily.

Kurt averted his gaze again. "I, um, I'm fine. Uh..thank-thank you. And, uh, s-sorry, you know, for...," Kurt trailed off as a glob of blood dripped into his mouth. He wiped at it with his hand and pulled it back, his nose wrinkling with disgust at the sight.

"Kurt, let me help you get that cleaned up."

"Th-there's no need. I'm fine"

"You are  _not_  fine. You're bleeding."

"I've had bloody noses before. It'll stop on it's own." Kurt turned to walk away.

"You're going to get blood all over your clothes," Blaine warned. He was grasping at straws. But if he knew anything at all about Kurt, it was that that boy loved his outfits.

Kurt paused at his words, considering.

"You know how hard it is to get blood out, don't you?" Blaine was a little surprised at his own words. But he knew for a fact it was next to impossible to really get blood stains out. His own mother never shut up about it whenever he came home from boxing training with blood on his gym stuff.

Blaine's instincts turned out to be correct. After a moment's hesitation, Kurt turned and, with a small nod, allowed Blaine to lead him over to his car.

Blaine grinned in relief. Kurt caught his smile and, after a second, returned it shyly.

Blaine opened the passenger side door for Kurt, who blushed before gracefully sliding inside. Blaine circled around and got into the driver's side. He reached over and opened up the glove compartment and pulled out a first-aid kit and a small towel.

"Here," he said, handing the cloth to Kurt, "Hold that to your nose and lean forward." Kurt blushed again but did as he was told.

"Thank you." He said quietly.

"Don't worry about it."

They sat in silence for a little while. After a few minutes, Blaine's curiosity got the better of him.

"What happened," he asked softly, "I mean, if you don't mind my asking?"

Kurt didn't answer for a minute. "I...tripped," he said at last.

Blaine could hear the falseness in his voice. "Tripped?"

"Yeah."

Blaine nodded slowly, wondering what it was Kurt wasn't telling him. But he felt like it wasn't his place to press.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Kurt hesitated again. His free hand fluttered unconsciously to his right elbow, which did not go unnoticed by Blaine. "No, not really," he said, "I'm fine."

_I'm fine._

Blaine reached over and gently took the cloth from Kurt's face. The bleeding seemed to have stopped. Blaine smiled, satisfied, "It seems the flood waters have receded," he joked.

The other boy smiled faintly as Blaine put the towel into a trash bag.

Kurt's eyes dropped to the first-aid kit in Blaine's lap.

"You just have all this stuff in your car?"

Blaine grinned, rummaging through the kit and pulling out some gauze pads and antiseptic, "Always be prepared. Boy Scouts' motto."

Kurt cracked a tiny smile and looked down. Blaine reached his hand beneath Kurt's chin and tilted his face upward to get better access to his nose.

For that moment their eyes met and Blaine felt... _something_. It was weird. He'd never noticed Kurt's eyes before. In reality, he'd never really noticed  _anyone's_ eyes before. Except Rachel's. But now he was wondering if maybe he should start. Clearly he'd been missing out.

Kurt had really incredible eyes, he decided. As Blaine watched, the color kept changing. First they were blue, then grey, then green, then back again. With flecks of bright yellow and what he swore was  _red_  sparkling about the pupil. The hues swirled and mixed so vibrantly, so piercingly. It was like those eyes were seeing straight into his soul or something. And they were  _beautiful_. Humblingly so. Like staring into the depths of the ocean.

Suddenly, Kurt shuddered and looked away, breaking the spell. Blaine swallowed as his gaze dropped back to the fresh stream of blood trickling down the boy's upper lip. Bright red against his pale skin. Blaine decided it was too quiet in the small space as he dabbed some antiseptic onto a gauze pad.

"Were you ever a Boy Scout, Kurt?" He asked casually, lightly dabbing the gauze against his face.

Kurt looked at him in surprise. There was that shock again. That utter disbelief that Blaine would care enough to ask. Kurt didn't answer right away. Blaine continued to work silently on his face.

Finally, Kurt glanced downward, keeping his head up though, as a light blush colored his cheeks. "When I was little," he admitted. Then added quietly, "They kicked me out."

Blaine raised his eyebrows, "What? Why?"

Kurt's blush deepened, he murmured something inaudible.

"What was that?"

"I set my tent on fire."

Blaine's hand froze on Kurt's cheek.

"You..." Blaine couldn't speak. It was taking all his concentration not to burst out laughing.

Kurt looked up, indignant, "It's not funny," he protested, "I was trying to kill the demon moth from hell!"

Oh, god. A sharp chortle escaped Blaine's lips. He covered his mouth but he couldn't completely hide his grin. It was so ridiculous and so adorable at the same time. He could just imagine tiny grade-school Kurt, all dressed up in slacks and a bow-tie stumbling along behind those loud sweaty boys, complaining about the food and getting his shoes dirty and correcting the other scouts' etiquette in the mess hall. And then completely freaking out upon finding a bug in his hair one night, and, well...

"It was awful! They had to send everybody home because the whole camp smelled like burnt hairspray. I was so traumatized I walked around with bed-head for a month!"

Everything he was saying just made Blaine laugh harder. Part of him felt a little bad about it, but he just couldn't help himself. It went on until Kurt finally broke down and started laughing too. It was a smooth, sunny sound. Like melted honey. Blaine wasn't sure if he'd ever heard Kurt laugh before now. It was really nice, he decided, and it was definitely something he'd like to hear more often.

The two of them sat there, giggling and chuckling and gasping together, and clutched at their sides until they couldn't breathe. "Oh my god, Kurt," Blaine managed when he could breathe again, "I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, you look it," said Kurt, still smiling.

"I'm sorry," Blaine said quickly, biting his lip, "I just-"

"I'm kidding," Kurt said, eyes shining.

"Oh. Yeah, I knew that."

Kurt gave a happy sigh and leaned back against the seat.

"That must have really sucked though," Blaine wished he could stop smiling but it just didn't seem a possibility for the near future.

"It was okay," Kurt said with a roll of his eyes, "I never had much fun there, anyways. I always hated getting dirty."

Blaine chuckled again and Kurt blushed.

"You should have seen my dad's face though," he continued after a moment, "god, I've never seen him more horrified-"

Kurt broke off suddenly, his eyes growing wide. He leaned over and examined his reflection in the rearview mirror. "Ohh, crap," he breathed.

"What is it?" Blaine asked, full of concern.

Kurt reached up and touched his, red, swollen nose. The bleeding had stopped but, Blaine had to admit, he still looked pretty bruised up. "He's totally going to freak."

"Why? It's not like you hurt yourself on purpose or anything."

Kurt turned to look at him, a hint of panic in his eyes. Blaine began to regret having said anything.

"I-I know," Kurt managed, "He just- I- He doesn't like it when I come home... damaged."

Blaine lowered his voice, "Do you come home  _damaged_ a lot?"

Kurt looked flustered, "I-I don'-I- no, I ju-"

Blaine sighed. "Kurt. I know you didn't trip."

"Yes, I did!" Kurt was suddenly adamant, "I was walking and I tripped and hit my nose."

Blaine frowned, "Kurt, why are you lying?"

"Why do you _care_?" Kurt immediately slapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide, but it was too late. The words were out.

Kurt winced. Whether it was because of what he'd said or from the pain he'd likely caused himself by hitting his still-tender nose like that Blaine didn't know.

Kurt's face was bright red. "I-I'm-I'm sorry," he sputtered, "I'm sorry. I-"

"Kurt-"

The countertenor fumbled for the door handle, "I should go. I'm-I-"

"Kurt," Blaine said again, catching Kurt's arm, "stop. Wait."

Kurt broke off and stared at Blaine's hand where it was gripping his arm with wide eyes. Blaine let go.

"I should go," Kurt whispered.

"Kurt, look at me," Blaine said, touching the other boy's shoulder ever so lightly. Kurt flinched but met his eyes. He looked mortified.

"It's okay," said Blaine softy, "It's oh-kay."

"I-I just," Kurt closed his eyes.

Blaine watched him carefully. The boy's brow was furrowed as he seemed to struggle with some internal conflict. He looked really tired, Blaine realized. Beaten and tired.

After a moment, Kurt let out a long exhale and turned to look at him again.

"I'm just a little confused," he said quietly.

"About what?"

"Why... I mean... we're not really..." Kurt trailed off, shifting uncomfortably.

Blaine felt his stomach give a twist. He knew exactly what Kurt was talking about. Why did Blaine care what had happened to him when they'd never been all that friendly? Never even had a real conversation before.

Kurt took a breath and tried again, "How come you didn't just let me go home? Why did you want to help... fix me up?"

Blaine blinked. That was a good question. He almost answered with ' _why wouldn't I?'_  but he knew that would be a douchebag thing to say. He knew why. It saddened him though, to see the poor kid so flustered by just the smallest act of kindness. Hadn't anyone ever tried to help him before?

"Kurt, we have a duet this week in glee," Blaine said with mock sobriety, "And it's going to be a lot harder for you to sing your part if you're passed out on the floor from blood loss. Plus, it'd be really messy. I'm simply providing a public service."

Blaine watched the other boy anxiously.

"Blood is a bitch to clean up," Kurt admitted finally, fighting back a smile.

Blaine shoulders sagged in relief. "Tell me about it," he said, returning the grin with a roll of his eyes.

He looked over at the taller boy, who was now staring at him with a kind of wonder.

"So, um," Blaine said after a moment, "Did you, you know, want to practice? Or did something else come up besides the blood?"

Kurt cocked his head in confusion for a second before the realization dawned on him. His face instantly brightened, "Oh," he said, shaking his head quickly, "No. No, just the blood. I, um, we can practice. If you want to." He was blushing again.

Blaine grinned. "That's great," he said. And he meant it too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special Note: Those of you who have checked over at FF.net know it's been over I year since I last updated this story. You also know I promised not to abandon this fic. It's proven a tough promise to keep, as this story has been slipping through my fingers, but I still intend to finish. I hate breaking promises, so I am going to keep at it!  
> Please review and help me find my mojo!


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt didn't say a word the whole walk back to the choir room. Blaine kept stealing sideways glances at the shy boy, but if Kurt noticed he didn't let on. Blaine would be lying if he said he wasn't growing a little fascinated with him. The pale boy was an enigma.

Ever since he'd met Kurt his first day at McKinley when he'd transferred in the middle of freshman year, he'd known the boy was... different. Even by glee club standards. Just from that first meeting and simply by being in the same school with Kurt, seeing him everyday, he could tell that. Kurt was an outsider. Most of the glee-clubbers were, to some extent, but  _Kurt_. There was just something about him that seemed to separate him from the literal and proverbial crowd. And it wasn't just because he was the only gay kid in the school. It was something else. Something...  _more_.

As the months and years rolled by after his transfer, Blaine Anderson had managed to stumble and fumble his way into a strong circle of friends, that apparently did not include "losers," and to gain a solid social standing. He had been voted MVP of the McKinley High boxing division, was lead singer in the glee club, a favorite of his teachers, and was dating the most beautiful, most popular girl in the school. His life was good. And he was happy.

But, sometimes, in between the knockouts and the nationals trophies and the high-fives, usually when he saw a "loser" getting shoved into the lockers or shivering and dripping with slushy, Blaine would pause and think back on that very first day. He'd wonder how differently things might have turned out. If it weren't for Kurt.  _Kurt Hummel_ , the quiet, sharp-tongued, kindhearted boy that constantly drifted in and out of his peripheral vision. The boy who was sort of always...  _there_. Fighting with Rachel in glee club, sitting in the back of his french class, taking his coffee order at the Lima Bean.

Running into him in parking lots.

As Blaine's new life in his new school had grown and taken shape, Kurt Hummel had fallen off his radar. Melted into the many masses of faces that made up the McKinley High student body.

Invisible.

But maybe it had been a mistake to let that happen. Maybe this duet could be a second chance to get to know the mysterious boy properly.

Blaine looked over at his duet partner again as Kurt opened the door to choir room, smiling at him shyly, quiet excitement lighting up those rather amazing eyes. Blaine smiled back. He couldn't help it. Kurt looked really nice when he smiled. Blaine thought he should do it more often.

"So," Blaine said once they were inside, "I guess we should pick out a song first. Is there anything in particular you want to sing?" They sat down next to each other and Kurt carefully pulled out a notebook.

"I, um, I had a few ideas." He kept the notebook closed.

"Yeah? Can I see?"

Kurt hesitated, "Can you, um... you go first?"

Blaine raised his eyebrows, "Yeah, sure," he said, pushing down his heightening curiosity once more. Kurt stared at him expectantly. "Well," he started, "I'm really into top forty songs. Pop artists, you know," Kurt nodded and Blaine paused. Originally, he'd been looking forward to singing a Pink or Gaga or Katy song with Kurt. He loved pop music. He loved listening to it and he loved singing it and he did both all the time. But few people knew the whole truth: that most of all, in the privacy of his own mind and home, he loved adapting it, making it his own, and morphing it into something new. He loved digging down beneath the pounding base and mindless repetition and quick lyrics and reaching the emotional heart of the pieces. He loved to sing songs that  _meant_  something.

It was difficult to do that with Rachel. She was always way too focused on vocal runs and showy gimmicks, and making sure the song showcased their voices (especially hers) as much as possible to worry too much about meaning or substance. It occurred to Blaine that maybe this assignment could be more than a chance to get to know Kurt better. Maybe it could also be an opportunity for him to sing something real. Kurt wasn't Rachel. Maybe his priorities regarding performing were more similar to Blaine's than Rachel's. It couldn't hurt to ask.

Blaine took a breath, "But Rachel and I sing that stuff all the time," he ventured, "So... I was hoping maybe we could do something different. Something more... I don't know...  _emotional_ , I guess."

Kurt flushed, "Emotional?"

Blaine bit his lip. Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe Kurt wasn't into deeper music. "Yeah, you know, something with a little substance to it?"

"Oh," Kurt breathed.

Kurt's reaction worried Blaine a little, "Is… that something you'd want to try?"

The taller boy's blush shown bright on his pale skin. "Sure," he told the floor, fingers tightening on his notebook, "I…we could…do that."

"Okay, um-"

"I have-"

Kurt and Blaine spoke at the same time and both cut off as they realized the other was talking.

"What were-"

"You go-"

They stopped again and laughed a little.

"Sorry," said Kurt, ducking his head.

"No, don't be," Blaine hurried to say, "Please. What were you going to say?"

Kurt bit his lip and stared at the notebook in his hands. "I, um," Kurt stopped and took deep breath. He then lifted his head and looked Blaine squarely in the eye. "I have some songs, some song ideas. That are... emotional." Red once again rose to color Kurt's alabaster cheeks but the boy didn't break away his gaze.

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "Oh," he said, both relieved and happily surprised that Kurt was so on board with his suggestion, "Okay. Great. What are they?"

Kurt opened the notebook and cautiously handed it over, "Don't laugh, okay?"

"Of course not. Why would I laugh?"

Kurt just shrugged. Blaine scanned the list, brows lifting a few times at the surprisingly diverse collection of artists Kurt had compiled. He looked up.

"Owl City, really?" He asked. Kurt hardly seemed like an electronica fan.

Kurt blushed again. Blaine was starting to think maybe that was just the boy's normal state of being. "I like the lyrics," he confessed, "They're...different."

Blaine nodded, encouraged, and looked back at the notebook. His face brightened as his eyes landed on a particular song.

"I love this song," he exclaimed.

Kurt leaned over to see where the shorter boy was pointing. He smiled, "You  _would_  pick the most popular one."

Blaine's face fell, "We don't have to-"

"No, no" said Kurt hurriedly, "I didn't mean- I love that song, too. That's why it's on the list. I didn't mean- There's nothing wrong with liking popular music. I mean, it's popular for a reason, right?"

"That's what I've always thought," Blaine admitted, "I mean, obviously there's some stuff out there that's pretty hackneyed, but I really feel like, with a lot of it, there's meaning in it. You just have to be willing to look close enough."

Kurt smiled again. "That's why I love glee," he said, "I think it's the best when we change up the popular songs in here and learn more about them. And how Mr. Shue finds a way to apply them to our lives."

Blaine stared at him. It was like the boy was reading his mind. "Yeah," he said, "That's my favorite part too."

There was another moment when the two just looked at each other, Blaine noticing the way Kurt's blue eyes seemed to literally sparkle with happiness.

"So..."

Blaine shook his head. "Right," he said, "So, how do you like this one for our duet?"

"I love it."

"Great. We should practice."

* * *

When Kurt arrived home, he was still dizzy with euphoria. He couldn't believe it he'd actually spent the afternoon  _singing_  with  _Blaine_. After they'd decided on the song, they'd spent almost two hours practicing. Rehearsing it over and over, perfecting their transitions, and arranging the score around their unique ranges. Their voices together had been everything Kurt had dreamed of and more. They sounded  _amazing_ together and Kurt couldn't wait for the whole glee club to know it. And Blaine had complimented him, on his song choice and on his voice. And to Kurt, one compliment from Blaine Anderson was the equivalent of twelve Oscar-nominations.

 _And_  they had talked. Actually,  _talked_. That had surprised Kurt more than anything. He'd known Blaine was beautiful and strong and a great performer. But he hadn't expected him to be so interesting and  _deep._  It turned out Blaine had fascinating views on music and people that Kurt had found both intriguing and, in some cases, surprising parallel with his own. Kurt wasn't sure where he'd gotten the idea that Blaine was self-centered and shallow. Perhaps, simply because of the company he kept. In Kurt's defense, Rachel Berry was something of a blazing star, blocking out and bathing her surroundings in a white hot glow of ambition and egomania. Having her on his arm constantly made it difficult to see much of who Blaine was as a person, distinct from that relationship. But one-on-one, Kurt was learning, he was so much more than eye/ear-candy.

It was pretty incredible, actually. In the span of an afternoon Kurt had managed to fall even further for the dark-haired boy, something that, before today, he never would have thought possible. A small, annoying voice in his head cautioned him, reminding him not to read too much into this. That one friendly, intelligent conversation did not negate all the years of indifference and straight, douche-bag behavior on Blaine's part. That even if Blaine really  _was_  as charming as he seemed and Kurt  _had_  misjudged him, it didn't change the hopelessness of his situation in the least: Blaine was not his to love.

But Kurt dismissed that voice with an impatient hush. Who cared about silly things like realism when he was singing a duet with  _Blaine Anderson_  on Friday? Everything else could go stuff itself, thank you very much.

Kurt was still humming quietly to himself as he walked up to the front door and slid the key in the latch. After ditching his bag, he headed straight to kitchen to get started on dinner. His step-mother, Carol, was working the late shift at the hospital tonight so Kurt had full initiative over the meal. Plus, it was half past five already so his dad would be home from the shop any minute. He was thinking maybe he'd splurge and make that heart-healthy lasagna tonight. He felt like celebrating.

Kurt was just putting the pan in the oven when he heard the door to the garage open and shut. The boy smiled, pulling off his oven mitts, as his father thumped into the kitchen, looking tired but happy to be home.

"Hey, dad!"

"Hey, kid," Burt said, shucking his jacket, "Something smells good. What's the occasion?"

"Nothing special," said Kurt, not really wanting to confess his crush on yet another straight boy to his father. Especially after what'd happened last time.

From the first day of freshmen year, long before Blaine had transferred to McKinley half-way through the semester, Kurt had developed an embarrassing and idiotic crush on Finn. Yes,  _Finn_. Kurt couldn't think back on it now without wanting to smack himself in the face but, at the time, he had been nearly as infatuated with his now-step-brother as he currently was with Blaine. When Blaine  _did_  show up, Kurt's affections had shifted briefly until Blaine started hooking up with Rachel. Then, lonely and a little bit desperate, and perhaps- now that he thought about it- in a partially reactionary move, he'd returned his attentions to the still-available Finn with a mortifying single-mindedness. He had even gone so far as to introduce his father to Finn's widowed mother, in the hopes of getting closer to him. A plan that had, on one hand, backfired horribly, leading to all sorts of messiness. But that had also, amazingly, resulted in the harmonious union between their two little families. Kurt now thought of Finn solely as a brother and still felt a touch of shame when he remembered how he'd felt and acted toward him in the past. But that was the great thing about Finn: He didn't hold grudges. He forgave and forgot everything so quickly, and Kurt truly felt the two of them couldn't be closer now if they were blood.

Kurt knew the whole fiasco with Finn, even though it had eventually worked itself out for the best, was a big part of why he felt so conflicted and upset by his current feelings toward Blaine. When his infatuation with Finn had ended, Blaine had, despite his unattainableness and Kurt's best efforts to keep his heart under lock and key, once again become undisputed epicenter of Kurt's affections.

Maybe Kurt just didn't want be happy. Maybe some dark corner of his brain got a kick out of being constantly disappointed. Why else would he continue to let himself fall for such poor and unobtainable matches? Why the fuck else didn't he learn his goddamn lesson?

Kurt bit back his sour thoughts and tried to recapture the happy mood he'd been basking in only minutes before. He turned to start setting the table, saying, "You know, most people don't need an excuse to eat something for dinner that doesn't require a microwave. You really need to think ab-"

"Kurt, what the hell!" His father exclaimed loudly.

Kurt startled and looked up.

"What?"

"What do you mean 'what'?" Burt said, outrage coloring his features, "What the hell happened to your face?"

_Oh. Shit._

He'd completely forgotten about his nose.

All the excitement with Blaine had pushed the worry of his earlier misfortune from his mind. And now...

"What happened? Did someone hurt you?"

"Dad-"

"Who was it?"

"Dad, I'm fine."

"Like hell you are!" Burt's face was turning purple with rage.

"Dad, calm down," Kurt pleaded. His father had had some serious heart trouble last year and, ever since, Kurt had been even more careful about downplaying the more distressful aspects of his life. His dad had enough to worry about.

"Don't tell me to calm down, Kurt! Your nose looks like someone ran a car over it!"

"Gee, way to make a guy feel good," Kurt said, dodging the unspoken question, but he raised a hand in an attempt to cover the evidence of his attack all the same.

"Kurt, this is serious. I'm your father. It's my job to look out for you. Now, tell me what happened. Was it someone at school? Do I need to talk to your teachers?"

"No!" The last thing he needed was his furious, overprotective father storming the walls of McKinley and terrorizing his useless teachers. It wouldn't solve anything and would just make everyone more upset. Including his bullies. "Please, Dad, it's not a big deal. Nothing happened. I just tripped."  _Tripped?_  Kurt winced internally. If that story hadn't worked on Blaine who knew nothing about him, it certainly wouldn't work on his father who always seemed read him like an open book. He really needed to come up with a better repertoire of excuses for these sorts of things. Maybe he should take up a sport.

 _Ha._  Sometimes he cracked himself up.

"Don't feed me that, Kurt. Someone hit you." Burt looked angry but, more than that, he looked hurt. He didn't understand why his son was lying to him.

Kurt bit his lip. His father was the only person in the world who cared about him like this. Who really noticed how rough he had it at school- despite Kurt's best attempts to conceal it- and actually tried to do something about it. And his father wasn't even  _at_  school with him. Kurt realized he really needed to get some better friends. And also that he couldn't keep up this fabrication anymore. Not when it was so obvious he was lying. But he also didn't want to worry his dad more than he absolutely had to.

"It's not that bad," the boy said, thinking quickly, "No one hit me. Some guy just shoved me in halls and knocked me into the lockers. I didn't see who it was. It was probably an accident." It was the best Kurt could do. There had been no witnesses to the altercation so, even if his dad  _did_  take it up with Principal Figgins or his teachers, it'd be his word against Dave Karofsky's. Even with his dad by his side, Kurt did  _not_  like those odds.

Burt did not look convinced, "Kurt, if something's going on..."

"Please, Dad," Kurt begged, "I promise I'm okay. It's was just an accident. It's a public high school. People get shoved in the halls all the time." Kurt chewed his lip, silently begging his dad to let it go. Burt eyed him suspiciously.  _  
_

"Kurt..."

At that moment, the door opened and Finn clomped in, tracking his dirty boots all over the kitchen floor.

"Finn!" Kurt practically shrieked, jumping on this beautiful diversion. He had never been more grateful to see his stepbrother in his life.

Finn started, eyes going wide and looking like a deer in the headlights as the other two turned their eyes on him, "What? What'd I do now?"

"Nothing-"

"Your  _shoes_ ," Kurt insisted, talking over his father, "Your mom just cleaned this floor,  _yesterday!"_

Finn looked down at the mess he'd made, "Oh. Sorry, dude."

Kurt could feel Burt's eyes on him as he fussed around the two of them, scolding Finn and shoving both men into the living room so he could quickly mop up before they ate. Kurt couldn't wait until the meal was over and he could escape to the sanctity of his room.

* * *

 

Later, the three of them sat together at the dinner table, Burt still silently fuming over his son's refusal to open up to him, and Kurt resolutely avoiding his gaze, staring moodily down at his plate and picking at his food. Finn, on the other hand, was shoveling in his lasagna like a hungry-hungry-hippo, oblivious to the tension hovering between father and son.

"Kur-"

"So, Finn," Kurt cut in quickly, "How did it go with Rachel, today?"

Burt glared at him, but Finn starting talking enthusiastically, full mouth be damned.

"-was gre'... wu'ul I t'aught i- wuh- gre' 'he's 'till nah- 'appy wif i- buh," he shrugged and swallowed, "I don't think she's ever really happy with stuff like that. It can always be better, you know? I kind of really like that about her."

Kurt nodded, eager to be talking about anything that didn't involve him or his "accident."

"She certainly is dedicated."

"What about you," asked Finn, talking another bite of pasta, "How'd i- go wif And'rson?"

This finally seemed capture Burt's attention. "Anderson?  _Blaine_  Anderson? The kid from the newspaper?"

A while back, Blaine had made the local paper for leading the petition to create a boxing program at McKinley. Burt had thought this was a fantastic idea and had praised the 'smart kid' for bringing 'a real sport' to the dump school, (their football team had totally sucked at that point, though it had gotten much better since the hiring of their new coach). At the time, Kurt and most of his friends had been seriously annoyed at this development. Here they were, clawing tooth and nail to scrape together enough money to keep their glee club alive, and here the school board was, devoting even more money they supposedly  _didn't have_  to even  _more sports_. Like the Cheerios and the football team weren't already bleeding the budget dry.  _  
_

But one day, Kurt had caught Blaine practicing in the gym; shirt off, muscles tense, sweat rolling down his face, smacking into the punching bag over and over again with a passion that made Kurt weak at the knees. What was so bad about funding sports again?

Finn nodded in response to Burt's inquiry, looking a tad belligerent. The tall boy had never been Blaine's biggest fan, "Yeah, that's the guy. Kurt's singing a duet with him in glee."

"He sings, now?"

"He's always sung, Dad," Kurt sighed, "Even before the boxing thing." Blaine had, in fact, gotten a lot of abuse from the glee club after starting up the boxing program because of the whole money thing. It was an amazing testament to his popularity and charisma that he'd managed to convince them that it was actually good thing. That it meant the school board  _was_  willing to spend money on new programs so long as they kept asking and made a convincing argument. So far, his theory hadn't held up to reality.

"Huh," Burt mused, "Who'd've guessed?"

"It's not so surprising," said Kurt, "Lots of guys in glee play sports."

"Play  _football_ ," Finn corrected, "Boxing is not a real sport."

"The hell it's not," Burt argued.

Kurt sighed and leaned back in his chair, letting his brother's and father's discussion tumble into the world of sports where he knew it would safely remain for duration of the meal. He had just relaxed enough to actually take a bite of the food he had worked so hard on when...

"Wait a minute...  _dude,"_  Finn said, staring at him with a frown, "What happened to your face?"

Kurt's forehead hit the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What??? What is this??? An update??? After a year and a half???  
> That's right y'all. The bitch is back!  
> Reviews are love! ;*


	5. Chapter 5

As the fateful friday drew closer, Kurt could sense his duet-induced euphoria slowly being replaced by his oh-so-familiar nerves and self-doubt. With the rehearsal knocked out and still two days until glee, Kurt was left with way too much time over-think and evaluate his most recent, swoon-inducing encounter with the suspiciously perfect bane of his existence.

If Kurt thought spending time with Blaine would make the throbbing in his heart whenever he saw him easier to bare, he was sorely mistaken. If anything, the memory of the brief hours they had spent solely in each other's company had increased his affections, and his pain, tenfold. Because, more than anything, Kurt was bewildered. Bewildered because their interaction the other day had exploded right in the face of all expectations Kurt currently held for his miserable high-school existence.

In all his fantasizing about an imaginary version of Blaine who reciprocated Kurt's feelings, the notion that real-life Blaine might actually  _like_  him, in any way, had never crossed his mind. It didn't make sense. As far as Kurt was concerned, his life, his  _real_  life, wouldn't begin until after high school. Once he was out of this homophobic, low-brow cow-town, away from his tormentors, and finally truly free to explore himself and the world around him then, and only then, could he start to live. Only then, safe and home in New York, would he have a chance at finding love, at finding acceptance, his place in the world. Only then would he have the chance to be happy.

Kurt had made bitter peace with his destiny of being made to wait a long time ago. For now, he was only surviving, keeping his head down and pushing though the mud, counting the days, hours, minutes until his emancipation. Basically, anything more than toleration was out of the question.

Until yesterday. Yesterday, Kurt had caught a fleeting glimpse of something...more. A possibility, small and improbable though it might be, a tiny flicker of something Kurt hardly dared to touch: Hope.

_"Kurt, why are you lying?"_

_"Why do you_ care _?" The words burst from his traitor lips before his brain could do anything to stop them. His smacked his hand over his mouth as if he could shove them back in but it was no good. The damage was done._

 _Kurt watched as confusion and then hurt flickered across Blaine's perfect face._ God _, what the fuck was wrong with him? Why did he say that?_

 _Really, it was a perfectly valid question. Neither Blaine nor anyone else (besides his dad) had ever shown any sort of concern for him before. And Blaine was_ Blaine _. The straight, popular, dream-boat, athlete who had never so much as glanced in his direction before. Kurt had every right to wonder where this sudden interest had come from. But_ why _did he feel the need to say it_ out loud _?_

_Kurt started stammering apologies out as fast as his lip could move, desperately scrambling to open the car door and get himself away from this gorgeous boy so he could go crawl into a hole somewhere and die of humiliation._

_"Kurt. Kurt, stop. Wait."_

_Kurt felt something grip his elbow, he looked down and froze in shock. Blaine was holding him._ No. _Keeping him from leaving._ No. _Blaine still wanted him in the car._ No.

No way _._

_Suddenly, the hand vanished and, through his panic, Kurt felt an irrational sense of loss. He wanted to slap himself for it, but he decided the pain still throbbing across his nose from slamming his hand over his face earlier was punishment enough._

_Kurt stared at the floor of the car, cheeks burning red. He wished he could sink into the seat beneath him. Become one with the upholstery._

_"I should go," Kurt whispered miserably. Because he should. He really should go. And go and go and go._

_"Kurt, look at me." The voice of an angel. So warm. So gentle, yet firm. Kurt couldn't have disobeyed if he tried. Which he did. Fervently. Then he felt Blaine's warm hand gently rest on his shoulder and he nearly jumped out of his seat._

_He looked up timidly into Blaine's round amber eyes, expecting reproach, hurt, even anger. What he found instead was concern. And curiosity. Kurt was even more confused than ever._

_"It's okay," said Blaine softly, ducking his head to keep Kurt's eye, "It's oh-kay." Blaine's hand was still on his shoulder which was making it really hard to concentrate._

_"I-I just-" Kurt wished he could disappear. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the seat. What was he supposed to say?_

_That he was unbelievably confused? And suspicious? That no one but his dad had ever shown this much concern for his well-being? That Kurt had gone his whole life without really having friends? That Blaine had never so much as glanced his direction before? That Kurt was madly in love with him and lost all ability to speak coherently when he was looking at him like that? And that he was being mercilessly bullied physically and emotionally every day and no one ever noticed? That he just didn't understand how this could possibly be happening and could he please wake up now because this dream had gone from damsel-in-distress to completely awkward in ten seconds flat? And dear_ god _, would Blaine_  please _take his hand off his shoulder because he_ could _._ not _._ think _._

_Kurt let out a slow breath, and looked over at the heartthrob in question, whose beautiful golden eyes shown with worry and compassion. Was this for real? Did Blaine really care about him? He didn't get it. He didn't get it at all._

_"I'm just a little confused," he said quietly, the understatement of the century_

_"About what?" Said Blaine just as softly._

_"Why... I mean... we're not really..."_

_How was he supposed to explain this? This sort of thing happened to him all the time and Blaine had never taken notice before. But Kurt certainly wasn't going to point that out. He could take care of himself. He didn't want Blaine to think he was helpless. And he certainly didn't want his pity._

_"How come you didn't just let me go home? Why did you want to help... fix me up?"_

_Blaine looked taken aback._

_"Kurt, we have a duet next week in glee. And it's going to be a lot harder for you to sing your part if you're passed out on the floor from blood-loss. Plus, it'd be really messy. I'm simply providing a public service."_

_That wasn't a real answer but Kurt perked up at the mention of their duet._

_"Blood is a bitch to clean up," he said, deciding to cut the other a boy a break. He could save his questions for another day._

_"Tell me about it," said Blaine, looking... relieved?_

_Kurt just stared at him. This perfect man. Was he really this good? On top of everything else? His status, his looks, his ability to render Kurt speechless with a simple look. His dark, curly hair that so diligently fought to be free of the massive amounts of gel. His tanned, perfect face with his heavy eyebrows hovering over those sunbursts of eyes, exploding with golden color. The muscles rippling through his arms and his strong calloused hands. That voice that put Broadway stars to shame and sent Kurt spiraling off into the netherworld of bliss and fantasies every time he sang. Plus, the quirky way he dressed with those adorable bowties. The way his eyes crinkled up whenever he smiled, like he was now. And Kurt wouldn't even get started on his ohmygodsomotherfuckingperfect ass._

_Really?_ Really _? On top of all of that, was he really a gentleman too? Could he really care? Could he really_ not _care that Kurt was... well,_ Kurt _?_

_Apparently so. Barring some unbelievably cruel and elaborate practical joke, it seemed the only explanation._

_And when Blaine asked if Kurt still wanted to practice, all remaining doubts were washed from his mind. Blaine Anderson really was everything he'd dreamed of and more._

Kurt sighed ruefully and stared down at his coffee as the memory replayed itself in his mind.

Blaine had been so... friendly. There was no other word for it. He had literally gone out of his way to help Kurt, to talk to him, to consider his wants and thoughts and feelings. And hadn't seemed the least bit put off by any of it. There was no anger, no disgust, no discomfort at all during any of the time they'd spent together. Not even a hint of any of the superiority or homophobia Kurt had feared might be hiding beneath Blaine's flawless surface. Not only had he invalidated all of Kurt's paranoid presumptions that he was probably a total douche, but he had gone one step further, had actually been  _kind_  to him. And that was something Kurt was utterly unprepared to emotionally deal with.

Even now, the warm feelings in chest were sending fantastical possibilities spiraling through his hormonal teenage brain. Images of a world where his life didn't suck, where people didn't always treat him like crap. A world where Blaine knew he existed. Was kind to him,  _cared_  about him.  _Wanted_  to spend time with him not just because he had to. Where maybe people didn't look down on him the way they did now.

Kurt shook his head.

Hope was a dangerous enterprise for Kurt Hummel. He knew if he wasn't careful he'd get carried away, lost, blurring the lines between fantasy and reality, and setting himself up for a level of heart-break that he wasn't sure even he could come back from.

 _No,_  Kurt thought firmly, he had to keep his heart safe. As much as he wanted to hope that things could change, deep down he knew such thinking would only end in bitter tears.

"Hel-lo! Earth to Hummel!"

Kurt blinked himself back to the real world as a hand waved in front of his face. "Jeeze, boy, I'm gone for two minutes and you totally zone out on me." Mercedes slid back into the seat across from him at the tiny café table, "You've only got ten minutes left on your break, and we have to dish!"

"Sorry."

"Where'd you go off to?"

"Hm? Nowhere."

Mercedes raised a skeptic brow, "Come on, Kurt. Don't you lie to me. You've had that same dreamy-ass look on your face for days. Ever since the fairy-god-fedora matched you and Blaine up in glee. Speaking of which...?" She wagged her eyebrows suggestively, but Kurt bristled.

"Mercedes, don't be ridiculous." She just stared at him, biting back her patronizing grin. He sighed. "Is it that obvious?"

"Like a zit on yearbook photo day."

Kurt dropped his head, "I can't help it. It's like my brain just won't turn off."

"I don't think your  _brain_  has much to do with it, hun," said Mercedes, squeezing his hand. Kurt groaned. "I take it rehearsal didn't go well?"

Kurt shook his head, "No. Worse. It was wonderful."

"Come again?"

Kurt gave her a miserable look, "It was wonderful, Mercedes!  _He_  was wonderful. And he's sweet, and smart, and funny, and..." Kurt trailed off as his own words sunk in.

"Oh, honey."

Kurt's voice was muffled by the table, "Just kill me now, please."

Just then the bell above the front door jingled and the last person in world Kurt wanted to see right then strolled in.

"Fuck," Kurt whispered. Mercedes turned to see what it was that had made her already anxious friend blush red as a strawberry. Kurt clutched his styrofoam cup with tense fingers as Blaine, perfect, gorgeous, Blaine got in line to order coffee. Like it was just any other day. Like he hadn't just flipped Kurt's world upside down.

"There he is," Kurt sighed wistfully in spite of himself, "Dreamy as ever." Mercedes pursed her lips in that special mix of disapproval and sympathy that only best friends are capable of. But Kurt was too busy drooling to notice.

Blaine looked good. He always looked good. But today Kurt thought he looked  _particularly_  good. Especially his hair. He hadn't put nearly as much product in it as usual and his dark curls were sculpted in loose waves about his handsome face. God, Kurt wanted to touch that hair. To run his fingers through those curls. He wondered what they'd look like completely gel-free. Probably pretty wild since Blaine was so diligent about keeping them under control. Wild and sexy. And soft. And perfectly pull-able.

Kurt shuddered at the thought. God, he needed help.

And just when he didn't think it could get any worse...

"Blaine!"

The shrill voice pierced through Kurt's skull like an ice-pick. He had been wrong. Blaine was actually the  _second_ -to-last person he needed to see just then. And the first had just come barreling in, making a bee-line straight for Blaine's lips. Where the hell had she come from?

Well,  _hell_ , probably.

Beautiful Blaine turned and smiled warmly as his girlfriend approached.  _As he should_ , Kurt reminded himself sourly.

"Hey Rachel! What's going-"

The starlet didn't even let him finish greeting her before practically throwing herself on his body. Kurt could only stare as they embraced. The way she attacked his lips, you'd think she hadn't seen him in a year. And the worst part was the way Blaine responded. Surprised into stillness at first, he was quick to recover and eagerly began kissing her back in kind. His hand finding her silky, brown hair and brushing it tenderly behind her ear. She pulled back and they both smiled, noses and lips bumping happily, completely lost in their own little perfect world.

God, they were so perfect together. And so obviously in love. Kurt forced himself to look away. He was seriously reconsidering his masochism theory at this point.

"I think I'm going to puke," he whispered.

"Me too," Mercedes answered. But it was distaste rather than dejection that layered her tones. They were in the middle of a café for crying out loud. Sucking face that close to the cookies just had to be some sort of health-code violation.

* * *

Blaine had never hopped onboard the latte-cappachino-frappé train that all the coffee houses loved to cater to these days. Call him crazy but, when he ordered a cup of joe, he wanted to taste the beans, not just sugar. Not that he thought there was anything  _wrong_  with fancy coffee drinks, exactly. He just couldn't convince himself that streamed milk and flavored syrup could ever serve as a suitable substitute for a good old fashion drip.

Sticking to the basics had other advantages, too. For example, his order was always ready almost as soon as he'd finished paying, while everybody else had to wait around and deal with the confusion of mis-spelled names and double-orders.

It was less crowded than usual today, so the baristas were doing the waitress thing and bringing people coffee at their tables. Blaine sat with his medium drip- which he had gotten right away- listening to Rachel relay her tragic tale of yesterday's rehearsal with Finn.

"Honestly, this whole assignment is infuriating. I think we should boycott."

"Come on Rach, it's not that bad."

"Not that bad? It's torture, Blaine. He can barely even  _sing_. Not to mention he couldn't dance to save his life. I feel like I'm a counselor at one of those camps for handicapped kids."

Blaine hoped Rachel's drink would arrive soon. His girlfriend was always at her moodiest in the throws of caffeine withdrawal.

"This whole project is a joke and you know it," she insisted, "Just because Mr. Schue has this bizarre idea that  _unity_  is more important than  _quality,_  we have to waste a whole week of prep time holding hands and singing Cumbayah to each other around a campfire. Sometimes I wonder if he even wants us to win."

Thankfully, the waiter arrived just then with some fancy chai tea thing that seemed to stem the flow of anger in her mind for at least a few minutes.

"Can I get you anything else?"

Blaine looked up at the sound of the man's voice was a bit surprised to see Kurt, his jaw tight and eyes fixed firmly on the table between the two of them.

"Thank you. We're fine." Rachel answered without even looking up.

Blaine didn't realize he was staring until Kurt shifted uncomfortably. "Do you want something, Blaine?" The boy asked, his eyes darting fleetingly in Blaine's general direction.

"Oh, uh. No. Thank you."

"Okay. Well... let me know."

Their eyes met for the briefest moment before Kurt ducked his head and hurried away.

Blaine felt something uncomfortable settle in his stomach as he watched him go. Like he'd done something wrong.

Hello.

He should have said hello to him. Should have smiled and told him he was looking forward to performing with him on friday. Why hadn't he said that? The two of them had spent a perfectly wonderful afternoon together just yesterday, had talked and joked and sang. Why were they now suddenly acting like strangers?

He thought back on their interactions over the last few days, about how Kurt seemed so reluctant to meet his eyes, to take his hand, to speak to him, even, it seemed. The thing in Blaine's stomach tightened as he realized the truth: They were acting like strangers because they  _were_.

Just because he and Kurt had hung out together yesterday didn't mean they were suddenly friends, no matter how much they'd found out they had in common. He and Kurt had had no relationship outside of this context of barista and customer until just a couple days prior. And he had no reason to expect that to change.

Blaine frowned as he tried to piece together what exactly had happened to keep his and Kurt's potential friendship from forming after they'd first met. It all felt like so long ago, like another time, another reality. He was under the impression that Kurt had pulled back. Blaine  _was_  the new kid back then, tentative about reaching out to people he didn't know. But all relationships were a two-way street. Maybe Kurt thought Blaine didn't  _want_  to be friends with him.

The shorter boy felt a little guilty as he realized he certainly hadn't done anything to dispute that theory over the past two years. His circle of acquaintances had undoubtedly tightened over time to include mostly those who were way high up on the social ladder. He could see how that might be turn-off to such an independent outsider like Kurt.

"-Am I boring you?" Rachel's sharp tone cut through his musings.

"What?"

Oh, shit. She had been talking while he was zoning, "What, no. No, of course not." He reached for her hand. "I'm sorry, Rach. I'm listening."

Rachel huffed.

"I am," he pressed, shoving his mind back into the present day, "Honey, I know you don't like singing with other people, but it's one duet. It's not like we'll never sing together again. If you just get into the spirit of it, you might actually enjoy it."

_I am._

Rachel rolled her eyes but she squeezed his hand. "You are being annoyingly level-headed, Blaine Anderson," she grumbled. Blaine smiled. "Fine," she conceded, "I'll do the song with Finn. But you  _have_  to promise me you won't let Shue force either of us out of the leads for the musical this year. Because if you aren't Tony to my Maria, I  _will_  boycot and then there won't  _be_  a musical."

Blaine chuckled and shook his head. "I promise."

As the date went on, she never once asked him about his rehearsal with Kurt. And he never once brought it up.

And the thing in Blaine's belly didn't like it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo much editing. I feel like I just gave birth to a whale.  
> And I know, 3 months is way too long to wait for a chapter. But it's better than 18 right? This is progress. ;)
> 
> Also, I finally saw the music video for Maroon 5's One More Night the other day was surprised/happy to see it's about a boxer and his wife. Oddly fitting for this story, right? [Here's the link](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fwK7ggA3-bU) if you want to check it out. 
> 
> Please Review y'all <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two motherfucking years. Betcha thought I was long dead and this fic along with me. Didn'tcha? Didn'tcha?

By the time Friday finally rolled around Kurt had decided there was a very good reason  _why_ people tended to get so painfully shy around their crushes. It was a very important defense mechanism that kept them from ending up in situations like  _this._

If Kurt had given into that awful, wonderful, debilitating shyness that had plagued him ever since the moment he first laid eyes on Blaine Anderson, he wouldn't be standing here right now about to embark on the most nerve-wracking four and half minutes of life. But  _no_! He had to go and do the brave thing, didn't he? 

Kurt couldn't believe he'd actually landed himself in this predicament. What the hell was wrong with him? Was he so desperate to be noticed he'd actually fallen for his own wild fantasies? Was there really any way this could end well? His legs were literally shaking beneath him and he'd be lucky if he didn't collapse right in the middle of his solo.

Or Blaine's.

Probably Blaine's. 

Because now,  _now_ , his heart was hammering so hard and fast in his chest it physically hurt and the dreamboat beside him was looking so confident and at ease, like there was nothing at all he'd rather be doing and no place he'd rather be, that Kurt had to stop himself from running out of the room and begging his dad to let him transfer schools just so he wouldn't have to look at it. 

The rest of the glee club sat expectantly in their seats, expressions ranging from polite curiosity to downright boredom in some cases. Or, in Rachel's case, barely repressed fury, which, Kurt had to admit, he found more than little amusing. He and Blaine were the second to last duo to perform and everyone was more than ready to get the hell out of there. 

The music began and Kurt was almost positive he was going to throw up right there in the choir room all over his beautiful designer shoes. The same sweet notes he'd come to know so well over the past week and to associate with Blaine and excitement and goodness were now causing him to seriously reconsider his career as an aspiring performer. 

Then Blaine started to sing and everything just... stopped. 

_You would not believe your eyes_

_If ten million fireflies_

_Lit up the world as I fell asleep_

God his voice was amazing. Even more amazing than during rehearsal. Like the thrill of finally having an audience had infused his vocal chords with something almost godly. Suddenly, everything in Kurt's entire life seemed okay. It felt like nothing could ever really be so bad if something this wonderful existed in it. 

But it was Kurt's turn and he was about to miss his queue.

It seemed his lips and throat started singing all on their own, with no consent at all coming from his brain. 

**'Cause they fill the open air**

**And leave teardrops everywhere**

**You'd think me rude but I would just stand and**

**Stare**

And then the moment they'd all been waiting for, the moment of truth when their voices finally blended together and made...

Magic. 

**_I'd like to make myself believe_ **

**_That planet Earth turns slowly_ **

He met Blaine's eyes and instantly everyone else vanished. Because _he_ was smiling at _him_. And it was genuine and happy and affectionate. Blaine  _enjoyed_ singing with him!

Kurt's heart stopped right then, but he went on singing regardless. Completely lost in Blaine's eyes. 

**_It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake_ **

**_When I'm asleep_ **

**_'Cause everything is never as it seems_ **

_'Cause I get a thousand hugs_

_From ten thousand lightning bugs_

_As they try to teach me_

_How to dance_

**A foxtrot above my head**

**A sock hop beneath my bed**

**A disco ball is just hanging**

**By a thread**

The music swelled and...

**_I'd like to make myself believe_ **

**_That planet Earth turns slowly_ **

**_It's hard to say that I'd rather stay awake_ **

**_When I'm asleep_ **

**'Cause everything is never as it seems**

_When I fall asleep_

**Leave my door open just a crack**

_Please take me away from here_

**'Cause I feel like such an insomniac**

_Please take me away from here_

**Why do I tire of counting sheep**

_Please take me away from here_

**When I'm far too tired to fall asleep**

The song went on and it just kept getting better and better. There wasn't one moment that wasn't spectacular, that wasn't perfectly rehearsed, impeccably timed, beautifully choreographed. The circled each other, moved through the audience, poured their hearts into this single beautiful song that Kurt had never dared to dream he'd actually be allowed to sing with  _Blaine_. 

They ended up at the front of the room again, looking into each other's eyes and smiling, even laughing a little. 

It was  _bizarre_. 

And the single greatest day of Kurt's life. 

* * *

It was Santana who finally broke the stunned silence.

"That was freakish."

Blaine's heart sank a little when no one corrected her. Was it really so bad? Blaine thought it had gone rather well. 

He glanced over at Kurt and the boy was beaming, completely unaffected by Santana's remark and the class's indifference. He looked so happy his face was practically glowing. It was contagious, Blaine smiled back and other boy's grin only grew wider. 

Finally, Mercedes started clapping wholeheartedly and the rest of the class reluctantly joined in. 

Looking at Kurt, basking unashamedly in the applause, a kid who so often lived his life in the shadows while desperately seeking the light, Blaine was suddenly seized with an overwhelming urge to hug him. His body moved forward without his permission but he chickened out at the last minute and offered his hand instead, which Kurt shook with unbridled enthusiasm. 

Glancing over nervously at the rows of chairs, he saw his girlfriend looking almost mildly impressed. Almost. At least she wasn't ready to pounce out of her seat and claw both their faces off. Blaine took that as progress. 

"Thank you, boys," Mr. Shue finally spoke up, "What an interesting song choice." And that was all their teacher had to say on the matter, which, to be honest, was a bit of let down. But Kurt didn't seemed bothered by it so Blaine decided to let it go. 

They finally moved back to their seats and Finn and Rachel took the stage, so to speak. 

They sang Lily Allen's _Smile_  and they sounded... pretty good, Blaine had to admit. It was obvious Rachel had been coaching the bejesus out of Finn, twisting and mashing and recasting his weak voice to match up with hers in a way that sounded just on the better side of decent. It was also obvious that Rachel was  _not_ at all happy with sounding _decent_. And Blaine mentally prepared himself for the barrage of complaining that would undoubtedly come his way in the near future. 

But for now, Blaine sat back and enjoyed the break. Watching Rachel sing with someone else reminded him of a time that felt so very long ago, even though it had only been a couple years...

On his very first day at McKinley High a tiny, pretty, dark-haired girl had all but attacked him in the hallway and demanded to know if he was planning on going out for glee. He'd stammered out a half-joke, something about finding his locker first. Rachel was not impressed. She warned him that if he knew what was good for him, he'd sure as hell better try out if he could string two notes together. They were desperate for singers and she'd heard about his success with the Warbler's back at Dalton. 

Blaine just kind of stared at her, eyebrows flying off his head as she went on and on and he finally agreed. 

He'd auditioned with _Something's Coming_  and blew the class away. That kind of acceptance had been overwhelming to Blaine, the new kid, and he knew he'd just found his home away from home. All thanks to her.

Rachel went up next, singing a breathtaking rendition of _Don't Rain on My Parade_ , and Blaine was immediately enthralled. And honored at the very thought that she'd wanted him to be a part of her team. 

As time went on their friendship grew. They were easily the two most talented members of glee club and were frequently paired for duets and chosen for solos. The two grew very close, especially after they'd led their team to a National's Championship sophomore year. Then, one day, everything changed. 

They were alone in Rachel's bedroom, rehearsing a duet, when Rachel suddenly sat him down on the bed, took his hand in both of hers and looked directly into his eyes. 

"We should be together, Blaine," she'd said bluntly, "We're perfect for each other and it only makes sense. We the most talented, most popular students in this dump of a school and surely we can only help each other grow. Plus, I like you. A lot. And I'm pretty sure you like me, too." 

Before Blaine could even think to respond, she was kissing him. It was soft and warm and sweet, but still full of that same power and determination that radiated off his best friend at all moments of the day. In that split second, a million thoughts raced through his hormonal teenage brain. 

She  _did_ have a point. Though he'd never really thought about it before, they  _were_ kind of perfect for each other. They had so much in common and got along so well. There was no one else in the world he felt closer to than this beautiful girl currently kissing the shit out of him. She was smart, talented, pretty and, at times, fiercely compassionate. Everything a guy could ever want in a girlfriend. Everything she tackled she conquered with grace and passion and spunk. And she  _liked_ him.

Did he like her? Like that? Blaine didn't know. The thought had never crossed his mind. But her kiss was so nice, his very first kiss ever. It shot waves of pleasure through his brain and her hands were so soft where they touched his face. And, hell, Rachel was always right about everything, so she was probably right about this too.

_Fuck it_ , he thought.

And he started kissing her right back. 

From that day forward they were a power-couple in every sense of the term. Their friends were ecstatic when they found out, congratulating them and reassuring them that now nothing could stop them from taking over the world. 

It felt good. And they were happy. 

Back in the present, Rachel was finishing up her song with Finn, looking more than relieved it was finally over. But Blaine was just happy for the chance to sit back and listen to her sing. It was always such a treat. 

* * *

Santana's and Sam's duet had not gone well. They were all out of synch. Not just in the song, but in life. Nothing about them was compatible except their mutual hotness and talent. This had never bothered Santana in any of her previous "relationships" and it was seriously irking her that this was suddenly an issue. 

He tried to talk to her about the song afterwards, probably to apologize, but Santana wasn't hearing any of it. She and Britt had plans that afternoon anyway. 

They met up at Brittany's house. Her best friend was broadcasting a segment of her online talk show, "Fondue for Two," focusing on a scandal involving all the red crayons disappearing from the art department. She was so cute, they way she witlessly ripped the art students a new one with accusations fabricated from totally made-up facts. And she was so serious.

Later, when they were making out, all she could think about was Britt singing her song with the leprechaun. And she felt completely unjustified pangs of jealously. 

The realization dawned on her slowly that day, and then all at once. Why she wasn't happy with Sam. Why spending time with Britt always made her feel so good. Why none of the boys she'd been with could make her feel this way. 

She was totally, completely, unequivocally in love her best friend. 

And she was determined to do something about it. 

* * *

Kurt was growing depressed. His euphoria had faded after the first week when Blaine had done nothing more than shake his hand after their duet and then ceased all contact. The second week found Kurt lounging in acceptance; maybe he and Blaine  _hadn't_ established a friendship per se, but at the least the other boy knew he existed. Knew he could sing. Knew how well their voices sounded together. Maybe he wouldn't even be opposed to singing together again. 

By the third week, Kurt was back to his normal, dejected self. Only worse. Worse because he'd tasted what it felt like to be wanted by the man of his dreams, and he'd had to watch as it all slipped away. 

His sour mood did not go unnoticed by Mercedes. 

"'Sup, Hummel?" She asked one day in the halls, "I'd have thought you'd be a  _good_ mood. What with your wildest dreams having come true and all." 

To be fair, Mercedes, herself, was in a pretty spectacular mood and was, at least in part, projecting. After her duet with the Puck had gone surprisingly well, the two had struck up a camaraderie that rapidly transformed into something... more. Kurt had received the whole play by play, and, while he was happy for his best friend, a small bitter part of him was growing increasingly pissed off about it. 

"They came true alright," Kurt grumbled, "And then I woke up." 

"Oh, honey."

"He won't even look at me, Mercedes." 

"I'm so sorry, boo. I know that song meant a lot to you. I'm sorry he doesn't feel the same way." 

Kurt just sighed and leaned against their lockers. 

"At least some good came out of this stupid assignment. How are you and Puck?" Kurt didn't actually want to know, but he was done talking about his unobtainable crush. 

Mercedes gave a little half-smile, "Well, we're certainly not star-crossed," she admits, "But he's sure hot enough it doesn't matter." 

Kurt chuckled, "He is that." 

They parted ways and Kurt headed to his French class with a heavy heart, resigning himself to a miserable forty minutes starting at the back of Blaine's perfect, indifferent hair. 

He was nearly there, when his phone buzzed.

He pulled it from his pocket and saw, with no small amount of shock, that it was from Blaine himself. _What?_ The message didn't say much, an insignificant little "Hey. What's up?" But it meant the world to Kurt. That Blaine was texting him at all. That he wanted to know how what/how Kurt was doing. It sent waves of euphoria spiraling up his spine, setting his brain alight with happiness. Maybe Blaine had noticed him after all. 

_BANG!_

Suddenly, the phone was knocked from his hands and he was shoved,  _hard_ , into the wall of lockers. So hard his head actually spun and pain radiated through his entire back and shoulders. 

Karofsky turned around and glared at him proudly as he walked away. Like he was performing some noble public service by reminding Kurt just how worthless he really was. Just how little he deserved to be happy for even a moment.

Something snapped inside Kurt in that second. Something that had been straining, painful and taunt for a long time. Too long. 

"Hey!" He practically screamed, abandoning his phone and chasing after his bully. 

He slammed open the door to the boy's locker room and shouted at Karofsky, who was scooping the last of his sweaty clothes out of his locker and packing them up. 

"I am talking to you!" 

"The girl's locker room's next door," Karofsky growled without bothering to look up. 

" _What_  is your problem?" Kurt demanded. He got right in Karofsky's face and the man rounded on him. 

"Excuse me?"

"What are you so scared of?"

"Besides you sneaking in here to peek at my junk?" Karofsky turned back to his gym bag. 

"Oh yeah, every straight guy's nightmare," Kurt spat at the bigot, "That all us gays are secretly out to molest and convert you. Well, guess what, Hamhock. You're _not_ my type." 

For the first time since the confrontation began, Karofsky gave Kurt his undivided attention. And for the first time he actually looked angry. 

"That right?" He asked, voice dangerously low. And deep down, Kurt knew he should beg off, but he was on a roll. He couldn't stop himself. 

"Yeah!" Kurt proclaimed, "I don't dig on chubby boys who sweat too much and are gunna be bald by the time they're thirty!"

Now Karofsky looked more than angry. He looked almost... hurt? But Kurt, himself, was to angry to notice or care. 

"Do not push me, Hummel," Karofsky warned, raising a fat fist. Kurt's eyes darted briefly to his curled fingers then back to his face, which was contorted with emotion.

"You gunna hit me? Do it!"

Karofsky slammed his locker shut, "Do  _not_ push me!" 

Kurt really should have stopped then. He really, really should have. But he couldn't,  _wouldn't_ , back down. Not now. Not when he was so close to finally ending this torment for good. 

"Hit me because it's not going to change who I am! You can't punch the gay out of me any more than I could punch the ignoramus out of you!" 

"Hey, get out of my face!" Karofsky screamed, actually  _screamed_. And, indeed, Kurt _was_  in his face. Right in his face. Much closer than he ever wanted to be. When did that happen? 

Kurt shoved an accusatory finger right in that face. He couldn't take it anymore. " _You_ ," he declared, "are nothing more than a scared little boy who can't handle how extraordinarily ordinary you are!"

And that was it. 

The next thing Kurt knew Karofsky's fat, sweaty fingers were gripping his cheeks and his chapped, pale lips were pressed against his mouth and it was... it was awful but it was surprisingly... tender? 

Karofsky pulled away and looked at Kurt with a miserable, desperate, affectionate expression, mouth hanging open, eyes filled with pain. While Kurt was staring at him in absolute horror. 

The jock moved in to kiss him again and Kurt shoved him away with all he had, protectively covering his lips with his hand, feeling seconds away from tears. 

For a minute they stared at each other in silence.

Then Karofsky gave a furious yell and slammed both hands against his locker before storming out, leaving Kurt alone and shocked beyond all thought. 

* * *

Blaine was feeling...strange. It had been three weeks since his duet with Kurt and ever since it wrapped up, rather nicely, Blaine thought, there had been zero contact between the two of them. Aside from their breif interactions at the Lima Bean and the one time Blaine had dropped his pencil in French and Kurt had picked it up and returned it to him. Every time, Kurt had avoided his eyes and kept Blaine strictly at arms length, sentences clipped and professional. Blaine didn't understand it. He'd thought they'd started back on the path to becoming friends but apparently he'd been wrong. 

But maybe they were both being stupid, each afraid to step out of their comfort zone without a push. Blaine could be the brave one, couldn't he? If he really wanted this friendship to happen,  _someone_ had to make the first move. They couldn't keep relying on Mr. Shue and his magic hats. 

Blaine pulled out his phone and sent a quick, innocuous text to Kurt.

And waited. 

There was no reply. 

Blaine bit his lip and headed to French. Maybe talking to Kurt in person was the way to go. He took his seat and dutifully watched the door, prepared to pounce on the boy with a friendly 'hello' the second he walked in. 

But the countertenor never showed. 

When the bell rang, Kurt still hadn't entered the classroom or answered his text and Blaine was starting to get a little worried. Kurt wasn't the type to cut class without a reason. 

He sent another text.

TO: KURT

FROM: BLAINE

_~Missed you in French. You okay?~_

Blaine regretted it the instant he sent it. He sounded so needy. Minutes went by and nothing. Two texts and no replies. Who was he kidding? Kurt didn't want to hear from him. 

He sighed and headed to the boy's locker room to clear out his stuff to wash over the weekend. 

The normally sweaty, crowded room was empty and quiet when he got there. He made for his locker, then stopped. 

He heard something. A quiet sobbing noise. 

Someone else was in here. 

Someone was crying. 

Cautiously, Blaine put his stuff down and followed the sound. He rounded the edge of the lockers and saw a figure huddled in the corner by the showers, shoulders shaking. 

Blaine frowned.

"Kurt?" He asked uncertainly. 

The boy's head jerked up and Kurt stared at him with wide, horrified eyes. Those same eyes were puffy, and thick streams of tears were staining his flawless, reddened face. 

Kurt cussed under his breath and frantically started wiping away the wetness. 

Instantly, Blaine was down beside him, kneeling on the damp, filthy locker room floor and not giving a  _shit_. 

"Kurt," he breathed, voice laced with concern, "What happened? Are you okay?" 

God, he looked awful. 

It seemed Kurt didn't even have the energy to lie, like he had the previous times Blaine had found him like this. He didn't say "I'm fine" or any iteration thereof. He just looked down and rapidly shook his head. Blaine didn't know what to do. 

 "What happened?" He tried again, "Talk to me."

But Kurt only shook his head again. He tried to move away from Blaine, so Blaine put what he hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder, trying to tell him it was okay. That he didn't have to hide his pain. 

Kurt wouldn't look at him as he tried to stifle his sobs. He kept touching his mouth, rubbing at his lips. But he didn't push Blaine away. 

Instead he leaned into the touch and allowed his eyes to close. 

"Did someone hurt you? Should I get help?"

"No!" Kurt said suddenly, looking all kinds of alarmed, "Don't. Please don't tell anyone about this." 

"Okay," Blaine answered, more to calm him down than as an actual promise. If Kurt really _was_ hurt,  _of course_ he was going to tell somebody.

Kurt stared at the ground a moment longer before he suddenly snorts a laugh. He shifts free from Blaine's touch and leans against the shower wall, raising a wry brow. 

"What?"

"We've really got to stop meeting like this."

"Like what?"

Kurt shrugged, "I dunno. Me on the floor." 

"Yeah," Blaine replied, only half-kidding, "Why is that?"

The taller boy's eyes darted to meet his quickly before drifting to the back wall. A moment passed and then-

"Do you remember your first kiss?" Kurt asked wistfully.

Blaine blinked. He had not expected that. 

"Sure," he answered, curious. 

"Was it your idea?"

Blaine smiled a little at the memory, "Not exactly. Rachel didn't give me much choice in the matter."

Kurt looked over at him. There was something in his eyes Blaine couldn't place. Something he didn't like  _at all_. 

"But you liked it, right? I mean, you liked  _her,_ so..."

"Kurt, what is this about?" 

Kurt shifted uncomfortably, "Nothing." But his hand drifted to his lips again and Blaine knew a big fat lie when he heard it. 

The pale boy was recovering himself, the window of vulnerability closing. Blaine felt his chance to be a friend to Kurt slipping away. 

He stood up suddenly and offered his hand.

"C'mon," he said, "I'll buy you lunch."

Kurt's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

"Well  _something_ happened to make you feel shitty. Tell me, don't tell me, but I can still help you feel better." 

"I-"

"And this place is gross," he continued, "I know a nice spot." 

Kurt stared at him for so long, Blaine started to wonder if he had something on his face. Then, finally,  _finally_ , Kurt took his hand and allowed Blaine to lead him out of the locker room and, hopefully, toward the start of a friendship where the boy just might trust him. If only just a little bit. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A mountain of thanks I cannot express to those of you who stuck around. And a bittersweet welcome to those of you just discovering this fic. Fair warning: I sometimes disappear for years at a time. I don't deliver quickly, but I do deliver. Hope to see you soon.


	7. Chapter 7

The two boys sat across from each other outside the tiny coffee shoppe. Not the Lima Bean. A little, independently owned, out of the way place Blaine had stumbled upon a few months ago. He'd immediately fallen in love with the indie music, the mismatched furniture, the original art on the walls, the friendly atmosphere, the strange food, everything. He just hoped Kurt enjoyed it as much as he did. Maybe even enough to help shake him out of whatever funk he'd been knocked into. 

Kurt was staring nervously at the table, picking at his food. He hadn't even touched his coffee. 

"Kurt?"

"Hm?"

Kurt jerked so suddenly he almost bumped his dishes off the table.

"Okay, that's it," said Blaine, done with this suffer in silence crap, "What's wrong? Something's got you seriously freaked out. Talk to me."

Kurt looked like a deer caught in headlights, eyes wide as saucers. He swallowed and Blaine could see his adam's apple bobbing. 

"Something's going on with you."

Kurt stared at him for a long time. Probably questioning where the hell Blaine got off demanding information like that when they weren't even friends. 

"Of course something's going on with me," he said eventually, quiet as death. 

"Well, what is it?"

Kurt laughed. He actually laughed. It was a hard, bitter sound. Nothing like the sweet honey of before. 

"Are you for real right now?"

Blaine frowned. "I don't understand."

Kurt slammed a hand down on the table, making Blaine jump.

"I know you don't! It's everything, Blaine. It's this school, it's this town. It's your violent, hateful, homophobic  _friends_. You wanna know why you keep finding me on the ground? You think I'm down there by _choice_?" 

Kurt sucked in a heavy breath but didn't look away.

Blaine's mouth fell open as the truth hit him like a ton of bricks. Kurt hadn't been questioning why Blaine wanted to know what the problem was. He'd been in utter disbelief that Blaine didn't _know_  already _._ Suddenly the boy felt like total shit. Like the completely ignorant, insensitive jackass that he was. He couldn't meet Kurt's eyes. He had to look away.

"I didn't know," he said. Which wasn't a total lie. He didn't know because he hadn't wanted to. He hadn't wanted to see so he hadn't _looked_. 

Not once he knew what he'd find if he did.

 _Blaine hummed the opening bars of "Something's Coming" as he pulled the Westside poster from his backpack and moved to hang it on the door of his brand new locker in his brand new school. He was in a great mood. His first two classes had gone very well and he'd just been accepted into the glee club. He could already tell this was going to be a great year._  

 _He lowered the poster a moment and looked around the hallway one more time, taking in the sights._   _All the students milling about. The hustle and bustle. Down the hall a couple were making out, a teacher was yelling at a kid with a mohawk, a bunch of jocks in letterman's jackets were making their way toward him, and, across the hall, the pale-faced boy he'd seen in glee was staring at him._

_Blaine offered the last a smile and the boy blushed and looked away._

_Blaine turned back to his poster. He was just about to stick the double-sided tape to the thin metal when suddenly the poster was ripped from his hands. Blaine saw, with no small measure of surprise, that it was the pale boy now holding his Tony poster with a look of fear in his wide, blue eyes._

_"You can't hang that up," he whispered._

_Blaine frowned in confusion. "What? Why?"_

_"Hey, would you look at that!" A deep voice boomed from behind Blaine. He turned and saw the group of letterman jackets standing over them, leering at the taller boy at his back. "Can't even let the new kid get through his first day without molesting him, huh, Hummel?"_

_Blaine opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off._

_"Can't even walk down the hall without making a total ignoramus out of yourself, Azimio?"_

_The large jock, Azimio, reached out and snatched the poster from the boy's hands._

_"Musicals, Hummel?" The boy sneered, "Just when we thought you couldn't get any gayer."_

_Blaine felt anger and indignation bubble up inside of him. He wasn't just going to stand there and watch this._

_"It's not his," Blaine declared._

_Suddenly every pair of eyes was on him._

_"Oh, yeah? Who's is it?_ Yours _? You some kind of fag too, new kid?"_

_Blaine was half-considering saying something like 'so what if I was' but a deep, shameful sense of fear in gut stopped him. That and a gentle hand on his arm._

_Blaine turned back to the taller boy, Hummel. The boy looked at him steadily, perfectly calm and slowly shook his head once._

_Later, Blaine would regret the choices he made that day. The unforgivable cowardice that ruled his actions. But in that moment fear had control of him._

_"It's not mine," said Blaine, turning back to the jocks,"He found it on the floor."_

_"Yeah right," the jock answered with a sneer, "Like there'd be two freaks like him in this school." The jock crumpled up the Tony poster and tossed it at Hummel's head. It bounced off his perfectly coiffed hair and landed on the ground at Blaine's feet._

_"Stay away from him, new kid," Azimio warned, "You don't wanna get any queer juice on you."_

_Blaine was about to bark out something that would surely land him in the principal's office were it overheard, but Hummel's hand was still on his arm and a soft squeeze from the taller boy killed the words in his throat._

_The other jocks laughed and the red and gold herd moved away from them down the hall and out of sight._

_Blaine turned back to the boy who had quite possibly saved his future at this school and found himself at a loss for words. Should he thank him? Apologize?_

_"That was surreal," he managed._

_The kid raised an eyebrow. "Oh it's very real," he assured, "Welcome to McKinley High, the most homophobic place on Earth." He bent down and scooped up the crumpled poster, handing it back to Blaine. "You should get rid of this," he said seriously, "Shit like that'll get you in big trouble around here."_

_"It's just a poster."_

_"Believe me. You don't want them scenting gay on you. You'll never have a moment's peace." The boy hesitated, giving Blaine a curious, almost hopeful look. "You're not, are you?" He asked, eyes searching._

_"Not...oh, gay? No. No, I, I don't think so."_

_God, Blaine could just imagine what would happen if even rumors painting Blaine as gay made it back to his father. Thank heaven for this kid._

_The kid nodded, not quite hiding his disappointment. "No," he said, "I didn't think so either."  He straightened up and offered his hand, "I'm Kurt, by the way."_

_"Blaine," he replied taking the boy's hand._

_Kurt smiled a little, "Yeah, I know."_

_"You do?"_

_"Glee club?"_

_"Oh, right."_

_Kurt chuckled. For a moment, their eyes met and suddenly Blaine felt all those positive feelings he'd been experiencing before the unfortunate incident had occured come back to him. And then some. He smiled._

_"Good to meet you," he said._

"I'm sorry, Kurt," Blaine said sincerely, shaking the memory away, "I didn't realize... I didn't know it was still so...I should have."

"Yes, you should have. But why would you? Why would anyone?"

"Kurt--"

"I should go." 

"No," said Blaine abruptly, reaching out and placing a hand over Kurt's, "Please don't. I'm sorry. Please don't go."

"Why?"

"Because," Blaine pressed firmly,"You've been dealing with this shit since before I met you. I know that, now. But that back there? That was something else. What happened?"  

Kurt sighed heavily and looked away.

"Why do you care?" He asked, echoing his words from days before. And Blaine knew he deserved a real answer this time.

"Because...I care about you. You're my friend. Or, at least, I'd like you to be."

Kurt looked baffled, "Since when?"

"Since always, Kurt. Ever since you saved me."

"Saved you?"

Just then Blaine's phone rang out an obnoxiously loud rendition of "Don't You Want Me, Baby," totally disrupting the tense, possibly pivotal moment.

Rachel's ringtone. 

Blaine didn't want to answer. He didn't want to talk to Rachel. He wanted to talk to Kurt. He wanted to explain himself. But the song kept playing and Kurt kept staring and Blaine knew hanging up on Rachel was not an option.

Finally, with a heavy sigh, Blaine pulled out his phone and hit 'answer.' "I'm sorry," he mouthed, but Kurt just looked away.

"Hey Rach," he said with false cheeriness, "What's up?"

" _What's up?_ " She practically shrieks at him, "Where the hell are you?"

"I'm with-"

"You're _supposed_ to be here. With me. At rehearsal. The _musical_!" 

 _Shit_. Blaine had completely forgotten.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"Get your ass over here, please. We only have so many rehearsals, Blaine. We can't afford..."

She went on and on and Blaine had to hold the phone away from his ear. He covered the mouthpiece and turned back to Kurt. 

"I'm sorry," he said again, "I have to go."

"I know." 

* * *

The next few days were... a mess, basically. It was hard for Kurt to pin down exactly what his feelings were. He was angry sure. And filled with a whole new level of terror in regards to David Karofsky. But he was also slightly ashamed at having taken out his anger and fear on an unsuspecting Blaine who had done nothing but try to help and comfort him.

Still, it wasn't like he'd said anything that wasn't true. Blaine was just as oblivious to his pain as the rest of them, if not more so. And if he really did want to be Kurt's friend as he claimed, he may as well know that.

Kurt wasn't used to playing things that way though. His tried and true MO in respect to the bullying and indifference of his classmates had always been "head down, mouth shut." It was easier that way. But he'd broken that pattern twice now, in quick succession. First with Karofsky and then with Blaine. And he was paying for it in a big way.

Ever since the kiss, the jock had doubled, no,  _tripled_ down on his terrorizing of the poor countertenor. The shoves and dirty looks were coming more and more often. To the point where Kurt found himself on the ground more often than not. He was bruised all over, and there was something new in those hateful eyes of Karofsky's... something that chilled Kurt to his very bones.  

It was like David  _wanted_ to hurt him.  _Wanted_ him to be scared out of his mind. Before, Kurt felt, it had been an almost casual thing. It had seemed, at least, that Karofsky was hurting and humiliating him only for the same reasons everyone else was. Because that was simply his role in the school. His punishment for be unique and different and unashamed. It was expected, it was... normal.

 _This_ , this was not normal. This was not "bullying the loser." This was... targeted, dedicated. This was  _personal_. 

David Karofsky  _hated_ him. 

With a passion. 

And Kurt had no idea how far the boy would go to alleviate whatever pain Kurt's very existence was causing him. 

And then there was Blaine. 

Kurt had  _no idea_ what to do, think, or feel about Blaine. His recent words and actions were knocking Kurt on his ass almost as often as Karofsky and Kurt wasn't sure whether to yell "fuck it" and dive headfirst into this newly burgeoning friendship or to turn tail and run screaming for the hills from it. And the whole ordeal was scaring him nearly as much the bullying. 

Like the time, two days after the kiss, when Blaine had found him on the ground... _again_. 

_Kurt's face smashed into the locker door and his books went flying. He lost his footing and tumbled to floor. Kurt felt traitor tears bubble up behind his eyes at the pain and humiliation of it all and he reached up to wipe them away. As his fingers came away bloody, Kurt realized to his horror there was a cut on his forehead._

_Shit._

_His dad had been growing more and more suspicious and now this. How exactly was he supposed to explain this?_

_Kurt shook his head and shifted onto his knees to start gathering up his stuff. He was just reaching for his French book when another hand came into his vision, offering the text to him. Kurt's eyes flew wide in horror when he saw who it belonged to._

_"Hi," Blaine said quietly._

_Kurt dropped his eyes as he took the book._

_"Hi."_

_"Kurt-"_

_"I'm fine."_

_"You're bleeding again."_

_"I'm fine."_

_Kurt was not entirely sure where his short temper with Blaine was coming from, but he was too frustrated and embarrassed to care. Blaine should have been affronted by his behavior. Should have written him off and walked away. But he didn't._

_He just gathered up the rest of Kurt's books and stood, waiting for Kurt to take them back. Kurt did so without meeting his eyes._

_"I'm sorry," Blaine offered out of nowhere, and Kurt's head snapped up in surprise. "For what happened at the coffee shop."_

_Kurt sighed as an unwelcome sense of guilt settled over him. "No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have lost it on you like that."_

_"It's understandable," said the beautiful boy, "I was out of line."_

_"You were just trying to help," answered Kurt, looking away._

_"I'd still like to. If you'll let me."_

_Kurt considered this. What did he have to lose besides his heart and his entire grip on reality?_

_"How?"_

_"I know you're not the type to let other people fight your battles," Blaine started, "But I wonder if you'd let me help you fight them yourself?"_

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"Self-defense," said Blaine, "I don't know if you've heard, but I'm actually quite a decent boxer. I could teach you some things."_

_Kurt snorted, "No, thanks." The last thing he needed was to go looking for a fight._

_Still, it was bizarre that Blaine would even offer. What was he getting at?_

_Was he really just trying to be a friend? Could he really be genuine?_

_Kurt had no idea, but it wasn't something he ready to mucking around in._

_Or was it?_

_"Actually," he backtracks, and Blaine's face lights up hopefully, "I'll let you know."_

And the following day at the Lima Bean...

_Kurt was nearing the end of a very long double shift. He was desperately looking forward to going home and flopping right down on his bed and staying there for the next three years, give or take. Or at least until the end of high school, as the hellhole was becoming more and more unbearable every passing day._

_He was just delivering drinks to a triplet of girls when they began to giggle._

_"What?" He asked, fighting to keep a cheery look on his exhausted face, "Did you see that vine with the kitten impersonating Bette Middler?"_

_"No," one the girls squealed,"That guy over there is staring at you."_

_Kurt frowned and turned to look. When he did, his face heated up red and he quickly straightened up and spun away._

_Over on the couches in the middle of the store, sat a group of McKinley's Most Popular. Among them, Santana, Brittany, Sam, Rachel...and Blaine. Blaine who was currently twisted in his seat staring hard at him like he had winning lottery numbers printed on his forehead._

_Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt caught Blaine spin back around to face the group, his cheeks almost as red as Kurt's._

_What in holy HELL did THAT mean?_

In short, Kurt was freaking out.With Blaine's insistence on behaving nonsensically gentlemanlike, Kurt could feel himself rapidly losing track of what was real and what was just in his head. How much did Blaine  _actually_ care? How did he view Kurt? What exactly did he want from him? And what was Kurt expected to do?

Could he really allow himself to be friends with Blaine? If that's really what Blaine wanted in the first place.

Could he handle that? Emotionally? Socially? 

He didn't know.

And it was going to drive him insane. God help him, that was the only thing he knew for sure anymore.  

* * *

Santana only knew one thing for sure: She was in love with Brittany. Whether that made her gay or bi or whatever was immaterial to her, though she did have a sneaking suspicion she  _was_ a lesbian since she'd never really felt anything resembling love toward a man before. She knew she needed to have Britt for her own, that she wouldn't, couldn't be happy without her. 

But how did Britt feel?

She didn't know, but there was only one way to find out. And it scared the living hell out of her like nothing ever had before.

It took her a few weeks to work up the courage, deciding what words to use, practicing in the mirror. She needed to be very clear with how she felt and what she was asking. She needed Brittany to understand that this wasn't friend-type love. This was the real deal. 

At last, almost a month after the duet assignment and her life-shattering epiphany, she finally conjured the nerve to approach her best friend. How pathetic was that?

She walked up to Britt at her locker, feeling uncharacteristically vulnerable.

"Hi," she started.

"Hi."

"Can we talk?"

Britt's forehead wrinkled adorably, "But we never do that."

"I know," said Santana, feeling a touch of shame when she realized that was true, "But I've been doing a lot of thinking."

Britt's frown deepened.

"And what I've realized..." Santana swallowed around the lump in her throat that had suddenly appeared there, "Is why I'm such a bitch all the time."

She took a steadying breath that didn't seem to help at all. "I'm a bitch because I'm angry. I'm angry because I have all of these feelings..."

She faltered for a moment as a letterman's jacket brushed by. She was suddenly very aware of how public a place this was and wished she'd chosen a more intimate spot. But there was no turning back now.

"Feelings for _you_ ," she pressed forward, "that I'm afraid of dealing with..." Santana's voice cracked in spite of herself as she felt the tears of shame burn the corners of her eyes. Shame for being so afraid. "...Because I'm afraid of dealing with the consequences," she admitted, then added, "And Brittany, I can't go to an Indigo Girls' concert, I just can't."

"I understand that."

Santana had a sudden fear that she hadn't made herself very clear, in spite of all her preparation. 

"Do you understand what I'm trying to say here?"

Britt shook her head, "No, not really."

Santana sighed, then looked Britt right in the eye. She _needed_ her best friend to understand this, "I want to be with you. But I'm afraid of the talks, and the looks. I mean you know what happens to Kurt at this school."

Brittany smiled reassuringly. "But honey," she said, "If anybody were to ever make fun of you, you would just kick their ass or slash them with your vicious, vicious words."

Britt's confidence in her was overwhelming, and it made her feel that much more ashamed and humiliated by her fear. The traitor tears finally escaped and Santana couldn't hold back a sniffle.

"Yeah, I know," she choked out, "But...I'm so afraid of what everyone will say behind my back."  She took a breath, "Still, I have to accept, that I love you." The words came out a blubbery mess, but Britt smiled softly at the declaration. 

"I love  _you,"_ Santana said much more emphatically, "And I don't wanna be with Sam or any of those other guys. I just want you." 

Santana was bearing her soul here and Britt was just standing there. She had a sudden, terrifying thought.

"Please say you love me back," she begged, "Please."

"Of course I love you," said Brittany, and Santana's heart soared, "I do. And I would totally be with you if it weren't for Artie." 

Santana just stared, not comprehending. 

"Artie?"

"I love him, too. I don't want to hurt him," Britt continued, "That's not right. I can't break up with him."

Santana didn't understand, she could feel anger start to mix with the hurt and betrayal. 

"Yes, you can! He's just a stupid boy."

"But it wouldn't be right."

Tears were rushing freely down Santana's cheeks now in the face of Britt's rejection. 

"Santana, you have to know," Britt implored, "if Artie and I were to ever break up, and I'm lucky enough that you're still single..." She reached out and took Santana's arm but she pulled away.

The anger had grown, powering through the other emotions, consuming her. She shook her head, disgusted.

"Don't," was all she could manage.

"...I am so yours, " Britt continued her thought, oblivious to Santana's pain, "Proudly so."

But it was too little too late. Bitch-Santana had taken over.

"Yeah," she said cuttingly, "Wow. Whoever thought that being fluid meant you could be so stuck?"

Britt's face fell. "I'm sorry," she said quietly, "Don't-" She moved in for a hug but Santana's shoved her away, utterly humiliated.

"Get off me!" 

"I'm sorry!" 

Santana spun on her heel and rushed down the hallway as fast as she could without drawing attention to herself. She couldn't believe what had just happened. She didn't see how that could have possibly have gone any worse. 

Tears poured down her face and she could feel a sob building as she ducked into the ladies' room and screamed at the freshmen inside to get lost. 

She stared at herself in the mirror as they scattered, the horror and embarrassment crashing over her. Fucking  _Artie_? Was that all she was? A consolation prize? 

The sob escaped her throat and she ducked her head. 

No! No, she wouldn't stand for it. He head snapped back up. She was fucking Santana Lopez for fuck's sake! No one got to treat her like that. No one said 'no' to her. 

She was in  _love_ with Brittany. Head over heels for a girl who thought she had to be loyal to a  _boy_ for god only knew what reason. But that just wouldn't do. Santana wouldn't rest until she'd convinced Britt that she was wrong. That she belonged with  _her_. Only her. Forever and always. 

She'd do whatever it took. She couldn't live without her. 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seven months, I think? That's what I get for biting off more than I can chew. But I'm still chewing! I swear! We will make it to the end! Review!


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